


Emergence

by Miershooptier



Series: Bodies in Orbit [6]
Category: Numb3rs (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Case Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sex, Slice of Life, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:48:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 27,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21717154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miershooptier/pseuds/Miershooptier
Summary: Charlie and Ian work a case and adjust to the changes in their lives after the events of Elegant.I don't own any characters you recognize, I just like to push their faces together and make kissy noises.  They're not mine and I'm not making any money.
Relationships: Ian Edgerton/Charlie Eppes
Series: Bodies in Orbit [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1411879
Comments: 23
Kudos: 115





	1. Chapter 1

The Craftsman came into sight upon the last turn in Ian’s run. He’d gotten to know the old Pasadena neighborhood pretty well now, though he never ran the same route twice in a row, and he varied the timing of his runs from day to day. Today it was late afternoon, which was…not the ideal choice during a California summer. Sweat soaked through his T-shirt and he was puffing after four miles. In spite of the heat, the sound of insects buzzing in the trees and the periodic cool breezes made it bearable.

Don’s SUV was in the driveway, which meant that he and Robin had arrived a little early for dinner. Ian cooled down with some stretches on the lawn, and decided to go around back to enter the house through the kitchen. He was parched.

Charlie was standing at the counter next to the sink, cutting up a pineapple. He looked up with a grin as Ian came inside, his eyes running appreciatively up and down the sniper’s body, not at all put off by the way the sweat made his skin gleam. “Good run?”

“Yeah.” Ian moved up behind Charlie to open the cupboard, retrieving a glass and filling it with water from the tap. “Pineapple for dinner?”

“Skewers,” Charlie said, pointing to a baking tray further down the counter where the slim pieces of bamboo were soaking. “There’s chicken and beef marinating, and a lot more chopping to do.”

Ian’s stomach rumbled in anticipation, and he reached for one of the triangular pieces of pineapple that Charlie had just finished slicing. Charlie smacked his hand away. “You can wait thirty-two minutes.”

Setting the glass down on the counter, Ian tried to appear pathetic and starving, looking at Charlie mournfully. Charlie’s lips quirked as he fought not to smile. “Fine. We’ll split one.” He grabbed a piece and brought it up to his mouth, holding it halfway in his teeth. He met Ian’s gaze, raising his eyebrows.

Ian leaned down and bit into the chunk of pineapple, taking part of it in his mouth before pressing his lips to Charlie’s, the tangy, sweet juice mingling with the salty taste of sweat on his face. Charlie tried to hold back a laugh as Ian licked up some of the juice that had dripped down his chin, then returned the favor.

“Uh, that doesn’t look sanitary, Chuck,” Don said, his tone mock-stern as he opened the fridge to retrieve a beer.

“Fuck off, Don, or I’ll make you start chopping vegetables.” Charlie didn’t even look at his brother, giving Ian a final peck on the lips before turning his attention to transferring the pineapple from the cutting board to a large bowl. “I should make you chop vegetables anyway, you’re drinking all my beer.”

“Like you’re the one who does the shopping,” Don retorted, taking a sip. “Besides, I have a very pregnant woman out in the living room who needs me to fetch things for her.”

“What are you doing in here, then?” Charlie rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. 

Ian kissed his cheek. “I’m going to take a quick shower, babe, then I’ll report back for vegetable duty.”

Robin was in the living room, sitting in Alan’s squashy armchair and looking as though she didn’t intend to move for anyone or anything. She’d gotten so much bigger in just eight weeks, and it was easy to see that the heat wasn’t making things any better for her.

“Robin,” Ian greeted her. “How are you holding up?”

She shifted, wincing a little. “One day at a time. Just three more weeks, and then I’ll have a whole new set of issues. But at least I’ll also have a baby at that point.”

Ian nodded, smiling a little. “I’m about to head upstairs to take a shower – do you need the bathroom before I do?”

“Let’s see.” Robin’s expression was considering. “I just went when Don and I arrived here, and that was only about twenty minutes ago…so the answer to your question is yes. Yes I do.”

Chuckling, Ian moved to the armchair and offered her his hand to help her up. He ended up having to give her both hands, she’d been so firmly ensconced in the chair. She sighed as she started to trudge up the stairs. “This house is gorgeous and I’ve always been envious of Charlie for owning it, but there are serious drawbacks to having only one bathroom, and to have it upstairs.”

Ian didn’t say anything, but he agreed with her. At the beginning of Charlie’s recovery from a broken pelvis and subsequent surgery, the stairs had been one of the bigger obstacles – and the cause of multiple near misses.

He slipped into the bedroom to give Robin some time, gathering up a set of clothes to change into so that he wouldn’t have to walk out in a towel with company in the house. He came downstairs after his shower, feeling his stomach growl insistently at the smell of meat grilling in the backyard. Charlie was still in the kitchen, poking fruit and vegetables onto skewers. 

There were a few bell peppers waiting by the cutting board, and Ian set himself to chopping them up, watching out of the corner of his eye as Charlie piled all of the loaded skewers onto a tray and moved to carry them outside to the grill. He was favoring his left side. These days he only used the cane after he really overdid it, but he still wasn’t walking the way he did before.

“Need any help with that, Professor?”

“Nope,” Charlie said firmly, holding the screen door open with his elbow as he stepped outside. 

_Message received,_ Ian thought as he grabbed the last few skewers and started filling them with pieces of bell pepper. Personally, he thought Charlie was pushing himself too much, too determined for things to get back to normal as quickly as possible. He was back to his full teaching schedule, although he hadn’t worked any new cases for the FBI. But Ian knew that was all due to Don not having asked him, rather than Charlie choosing to take it easy.

“That smells good,” Alan said approvingly as he pushed open the kitchen door, just as Ian was coming back from delivering the remaining skewers to Charlie. “I feel like I need to ask what broke.”

“Come again?” Ian grabbed some paper towels to wipe down the counter.

Alan smiled. “Charlie was never very interested in cooking or helping out in the kitchen when he was growing up. Usually the only times he ever took initiative were when one of his experiments caused some kind of damage or mayhem, trying to butter us up before he told us what happened.”

“Greasing the wheels of conflict resolution with food,” Ian mused. “No idea where he would have gotten that from.”

Alan gave him a startled look, then laughed. “Well, then I guess I have only myself to blame.”

“Nothing’s broken,” Charlie called from just outside the screen door, his hands full with a tray stacked with grilled skewers. “It just turns out that grilling small pieces of meat and vegetables on sticks is nearly impossible to mess up. Can someone get the door?”

Ian stretched out to push it open, hiding his wince at the slight twinge in his right arm. Alan moved aside as Charlie carried the tray into the dining room, then pulled some plates out of the cupboard to set the table.

“It looks great, Charlie,” Don said, holding Robin’s arm as she eased herself into one of the dining room chairs. He loaded up a plate with one chicken skewer, one beef skewer, and two filled with assorted vegetables and pineapple, and set it in front of his wife. He piled his own plate with three meat skewers and one veggie. 

“You’re having more vegetables than that,” Alan said automatically, putting another veggie skewer on his plate. Don scowled, though Ian wasn’t sure if it was due to being told to eat more vegetables as a grown man, or the vegetables themselves. Either way, he couldn’t hide his smirk.

“So.” Alan swallowed a bite of chicken. “Charlie, have you and Ian set a date yet?”

Charlie looked at Don, a triumphant expression on his face. “Told you! You owe me twenty bucks.”

“What?” Alan frowned. “What, what is this, what are you talking about?”

“Just a friendly bet, Dad,” Don said, taking out his wallet and pulling out a couple of tens. Charlie smugly plucked them out of his hand. “On whether you’d start out talking weddings or babies today.”

“You see this?” Alan looked at both Robin and Ian, gesturing at his sons. “Look at what I have to put up with, and here you two are putting up with them voluntarily.”

“It’s too late for me, Alan,” Robin smiled, one hand rubbing circles on her belly. “I’m in too deep.”

“Yeah, me too,” Ian said, covering Charlie’s hand with his and giving it a squeeze.

Charlie beamed at him, then turned to his father. “And no, we haven’t talked about it. There’s not really any hurry.”

“You say that now,” Alan grumped. “But if you don’t start making some decisions then you may not get your first choice of venue. Donnie, you had to reserve that hall, what, at least three months in advance?”

“Something like that,” Don agreed. “But you know, the where was never as important as the who.” He picked up Robin’s hand, laying a soft kiss on the back of it. She smiled at him.

“You starting your maternity leave this week?” Ian asked.

Robin nodded, ignoring her husband’s unspoken – but very clearly understood – expression of _‘Finally.’_

“At the end of the week, yes. And actually, Charlie, I was hoping that you might be able to help me out with this case. It’s not going to trial before she comes,” Robin patted her belly. “But I want to make sure that it’s at least at a solid stage before I leave.”

“Absolutely, whatever you need,” Charlie said, eagerly. “What’s the case?”

“Jeffrey Grant Wilson.” Robin’s tone was solemn, and the atmosphere in the room changed. It had been one of the top stories in local – and even national – news for weeks now, the suspect arrested for the murders of at least five women, and likely more.

“How can I help?” Charlie was a little confused. “He’s in custody, right? What could you need me for?”

“The bodies,” Don said quietly. “We haven’t found the bodies, and the chances of a conviction without them…”

“Not as good as I’d like,” Robin interrupted. “We have a strong circumstantial case, but…the problem is that we think that Wilson buried the bodies on his property.”

“I take it he has a large property?” Ian absently started rubbing his hand up and down Charlie’s back, trying to ease some of the tension he saw in his shoulders.

“Large property, yeah,” Don said, a frustrated edge creeping into his voice. “But that’s not the biggest issue. His property is just outside of Montecito, and –“

“Mudslides,” Charlie interrupted, understanding where Don was going. “The mudslides affected his property?”

“If Wilson did bury the bodies somewhere on the property, we have no idea where they started, and where they might have ended up.” Robin gasped slightly, putting her hand on her side. She glared at Don. “Tell your daughter to stop kicking me.”

“You need me to put a mountain back together.” Charlie’s fingers started to drum on the table, his mind already starting to attack the problem.

“Hey, when you say it like that it sounds hard,” Don joked.

Charlie grinned. “I think…it may be doable. I’ve got class and office hours until two tomorrow afternoon. Can I come by the office afterward and see what you have? I’ll bring some ideas with me.”

“Sure thing, buddy. Any help you could give us would be appreciated.” 

Alan grunted. “I can’t remember specifically when murderers and bodies became acceptable dinner conversation in this house, but there must have been a time before that when we had normal things to talk about.”

“Of course,” Charlie nodded. “I’m sure that hyperboloid models and Riemann surfaces were discussed nightly in every house on our block.”

“It doesn’t count as conversation if you’re the only one talking, Chuck.” Don grinned as everyone else around the table laughed.

Charlie glared at his brother, lined up a pearl onion on his plate, and flicked it at him. Don blocked it with his own plate and it skittered down the table before finally wobbling to a stop. 

Alan just sighed and closed his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Charlie winced as he pushed his upper body forward and down from his kneeling position on the floor, deepening one of the stretches that his physical therapist said would help him regain flexibility. It didn’t hurt as much now, he knew that he was making progress. But dammit, it still hurt, and it felt even more like a chore when his nice, soft bed was just right there waiting for him. Not to mention his hot as fuck fiancé. 

_Fiancé._ It still felt strange to think of Ian that way, because Charlie didn’t feel like the word did justice to the way their relationship had deepened. It felt the same, and yet _more._ It was weird to try to define that with words like ‘fiancé’ or ‘engagement.’ They felt inadequate.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he got to his feet, using his left hand on the edge of the bed to brace his weaker side. Ian was stretched out on top of the covers, leaning back against the headboard, bracing the back of his head with one arm and reading a book. 

Charlie settled down next to him, just looking at him for a moment before smiling to himself and reaching over to get his notebook from the nightstand. His mind wandered back to the case and the mudslide problem, and without really thinking about it he started to sketch out some set theory as it could potentially relate to geological shifts. It took him a moment to realize that Ian had said something.

“What?” Charlie looked up from his notebook. “Sorry, I –“

Ian’s eyes were full of amused understanding. “I was asking…your dad mentioned setting a date…” The sniper dog-eared the page of his book and set it aside. “I know next to nothing about planning this type of thing.”

“My only experience with it is Don’s wedding,” Charlie said, shrugging. “Oh, and one time Dad hosted a wedding here at the house for some friends. That’s about it for me.”

“And…are you thinking about doing something basically like Don’s wedding?” 

Anyone else would have heard a casual inquiry, but Charlie knew Ian well enough to detect the slight apprehension behind the question.

“Well,” Charlie put his notebook back on the nightstand. “As delicious as you look in a tux –“ He reached over to wrap an arm around Ian’s waist, pulling himself closer. “And believe me, you _do_ , that was a really long fucking day, and I honestly can’t understand why anyone would opt in to something like that.”

Ian put his arm around him, giving him a squeeze.

“If I didn’t know that my dad would hunt us down and murder us both, then honestly I’d go down to the courthouse with you tomorrow, if you wanted. But in the interest of us, you know, actually surviving to married life, something small, informal and uncomplicated is my preference. What about you?”

“That was a long day,” Ian mused. “But it wasn’t all bad. Those twenty minutes in the supply room in between the ceremony and the dinner –“

“You could have told me that my tie was on backwards,” Charlie grumbled, but he felt his body growing warm at the memory. “But we were just in the wedding party. It’s not like Don and Robin could have snuck off, they were the center of attention.”

“That’s the point of weddings, babe.” Ian leaned over and kissed Charlie’s cheek. “But I think I agree that small and informal would be best for us.”

“How small?” Charlie asked. “Because I think that it’s pretty important that at least you and I show up. Again, Dad would murder us if he wasn’t there, and it would be only fair to invite Don and Robin. Probably the team, and Megan, if they want to come. And Larry and Amita, maybe one or two others from CalSci.”

“Sounds good to me,” Ian murmured. 

Charlie hesitated, forming his next thought. “And…your family?”

Ian stiffened slightly, and didn’t reply right away. “I can invite Jen and the kids,” he said eventually, his tone neutral. “I, uh, called her to tell her the news weeks ago, and she definitely wants to be there.”

“I can’t wait to meet her,” Charlie said, snuggling closer to Ian.

There was a thoughtful silence, then Ian grabbed his phone off of the nightstand. “Kinda feel stupid that I didn’t think of this earlier.” He fiddled with the screen for a second, then held the phone out in front of both of them.

“What are you doing?” Charlie asked, slightly alarmed.

“Video call,” Ian said, turning to lay a kiss on the top of Charlie’s head.

“What? But – but it’s late – we’re in bed –“ 

“Anchorage is an hour behind us, Professor, and it’s not like we’re – hey, Jen!” Ian’s face broke out into a smile.

“Ian, what’s up, bro?” A woman’s face was on the screen, also grinning. Even with the small size of the image it wasn’t hard to see the resemblance between her and Ian – the same sharp features, just slightly rounded and more feminine, long black hair, and the same complexion. 

“Hope it’s not a bad time,” Ian said. “Just wanted you and Charlie to meet, kind of.”

“Hi,” Charlie gulped and tried for a smile. “Good to see you, Jen.”

“You too, Charlie.” Jen’s eyes were bright and appraising, and she lifted her free hand to the side of her mouth, as though she could whisper directly to Ian. “He’s cute.”

Ian laughed while Charlie tried to ignore the color rising in his cheeks. Jen stifled a giggle. “So, Ian tells me that you’re some kind of genius.”

“Specifically the applied mathematics kind of genius, but, um, yeah, I guess I am,” Charlie said. “And you’re a CNA, right? That’s really cool.”

“Yup, just came off a shift. Kids are already in bed, or I’d have them say hello.” Jen stifled a yawn. “Sorry, it’s been a day. How are you both doing? After – after everything?”

“Fine,” said Ian and Charlie at the same time.

Jen smiled. “Uh huh. Just take it easy, you two. As someone who works in a hospital I can tell you that we prefer not to have repeat customers.”

“I’ve already met my hospital visit quota for the year,” Ian said.

“How about for life?” Charlie countered, giving him a hard squint.

“I knew I’d like you,” Jen said, laughing. “Listen to your man, bro, and stay out of trouble.”

“Now I’m seeing that this was a bad idea, if you two are going to gang up on me.” Ian’s mock complaint was met with simultaneous eye rolls.

“When are you back at work?” 

“I’m cleared for light duty, but I still have two weeks of leave,” Ian answered, his tone nonchalant. Charlie gave his arm a light squeeze. “We should let you go – you’ve got to be tired after your shift.”

“Sure.” Jen’s answering smile wasn’t quite as big as it had been. “It’s even later for you guys. It was nice to kind of meet you face to face, Charlie. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

“Same here,” Charlie said earnestly. “Have a good night, Jen.”

“Night, sis. I’ll call later this week, early enough to talk to the kids.” 

“Okay. Bye, Ian.” The tip of Jen’s finger suddenly filled the entire screen, and then it went dark as the call ended.

Charlie tightened his arm around Ian’s waist, pressing his face into his side and breathing in deeply. “You can go back to work whenever you want to, Ian. I know that you’re not content with nothing to do, even when the alternative is just light duty. I’m okay.”

“There’s no rush, Professor,” Ian said, idly running his fingers through Charlie’s hair.

“I just don’t want you to feel…trapped. I said that nothing has to change, and I meant it.” Charlie tried to keep the anxiety he was feeling out of his voice. His past relationships, the ones that mattered – Susan, Amita – those had failed because one or both of them had been trying to conform to expectations that didn’t fit them. He didn’t want that to happen again, he wanted to make it clear to Ian that his expectations hadn’t expanded or changed.

Ian placed a knuckle under Charlie’s chin, tilting his face up so that he could look him in the eyes. “You trying to get rid of me?”

Charlie reached up, curling his hand around the back of Ian’s neck so that he could bring him down for a kiss. “I’m trying not to drive you away.”

Growling, Ian rolled over so that his upper body was on top of Charlie’s, carefully avoiding putting any weight on his hips. He crushed their mouths together, his tongue swiping against Charlie’s lips until they parted so that he could deepen the kiss. He felt the mathematician’s arms tighten around him, gathering handfuls of his T-shirt in his fists.

“Trying to recreate those twenty minutes in the storage room?” Charlie asked with a breathless laugh when they were forced to come up for air.

“Hmmm.” Ian nosed his way to the hinge of Charlie’s jaw, laying a kiss there. “I don’t know that we can do a faithful reenactment at the moment.”

“I’m game if you are,” Charlie said, releasing a fistful of Ian’s shirt to instead get a fistful of Ian’s ass. “I may not be up to riding you but I’m perfectly capable of bending over.”

Ian laughed, his breath tickling Charlie’s neck and causing the smaller man scrunch up his shoulder in self-defense. “No, you’re not.”

“Are you kidding? Did you not see me on the floor earlier, I was bending all over the place!” Charlie was indignant.

“But the expression on your face told me you weren’t enjoying it, Professor.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t have your dick up my ass, did I?” Charlie huffed, and Ian had to swallow quickly, feeling himself getting completely hard in record time.

“Plenty of other things we can do,” Ian said, palming Charlie’s erection through his boxers. He was surprised when Charlie looked down and gently stilled his hand before moving it away from his groin, over to the bed.

“Hey.” Ian lifted himself up a little, looking at Charlie with concern. “Talk to me.”

Charlie squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. “It’s – it’s not…if I just wanted to get off I could do that any time, with or without you. I’m tired of having to work around this, I hate having you here in arm’s reach and…being _limited,_ I hate this –“ Charlie waved a hand, motioning between Ian and himself, unable to meet Ian’s eyes. “Not being the same as it was.”

“I know what you’re saying, babe, believe me I want to. I just don’t want to hurt you. And this is temporary, it’s just until you’re fully healed up.”

“It sucks.” Charlie wrapped his arms around Ian, but the mood had shifted. The way Charlie was clinging to him and burying his face in his shoulder meant he was looking for comfort, not sex. And it was rare during the past two months that Charlie had allowed himself to ask for that, even if the request wasn’t spoken aloud.

Ian kissed him on the cheek, settling them both so they were lying flat and then pulling the sheets over them. 

“It does,” he said, holding Charlie close and willing his erection to go down. “It really does.”


	3. Chapter 3

Don paused after standing up from his chair in the bullpen, quietly taking in the familiar sight of Charlie scribbling furiously on the plexiglass boards in the war room. He’d filled one completely and it was looking like he was going to be done with the second one soon. He would have to step in before his little brother started writing on the glass walls again. Don knew it was because he didn’t want to interrupt the flow once he got going, and Charlie didn’t intend to be an inconsiderate ass. But Don had gotten some very pointed emails from custodial services about the difficulty involved in completely cleaning marker smears off the glass, and being on the shit list of the custodial team manifested itself in some innocuous but weirdly gross ways.

The rest of the team was already in the war room, paying rapt attention while Charlie waved his hands in explanation. His gestures seemed bigger than usual, though maybe they had to be since he wasn’t pacing at the same time. All of that energy needed some kind of outlet. Don smiled to himself and joined his team.

“It’s really similar to the work I’ve done on fluid dynamics,” Charlie was saying as Don came in and took a seat. “When we’re talking about land shifts, though, we’re talking about a huge variety of materials that all behave in different ways. Mud, for example, is a viscoplastic fluid. It can behave like a fluid right up until it doesn’t, when it deforms the way that a plastic material would without rebounding. There’s also the question of differences in the consistency of the mud, you know, like the way chocolate milkshakes differ from restaurant to restaurant – some of them you can drink with a straw, and others they shouldn’t even call milkshakes and why do they even bother with a straw, I mean it’s practically soft-serve –“

“Charlie,” Don interrupted. “Get to the point.”

“The point is that now I want a milkshake, Don, was that not clear?” Charlie grinned at his brother.

“Yeah, now I kind of do, too,” Colby said sheepishly.

David sat up suddenly and snapped his fingers at Colby, pointing. “Man, _mudslides._ We should get mudslides.”

“Yes, that is an extremely relevant idea, David.” The approval in Charlie’s tone was clear. 

“Can we focus?” Don scowled. “Pretty sure we’re here to talk about finding dead bodies in a hillside that decided to migrate.”

“Indeed. Nikki, you said that you had some comparative satellite imagery?” Charlie looked up at the large screen at the front of the room as Nikki brought the images up on her laptop.

“Okay, right there –“ Nikki pointed to an area that was outlined in yellow on both images. “That’s Wilson’s property. The image on the left was taken about four months before the mudslides, the image on the right was taken shortly after we arrested Wilson.”

“That whole section is gone,” Ian said, from his perch on one of the tables. “Do you have any idea where on the property he might have buried the bodies?”

“We’re having some trouble with accurately mapping the layout,” Liz said, an edge of frustration creeping into her tone. “Montecito is unincorporated territory within Santa Barbara County, and Wilson’s family have owned the property since the early 1900s. There’s some disagreement in the available records about what the boundaries of the property actually are.”

“For the purposes of my analysis, that shouldn’t matter,” Charlie assured. “We’ll just assume that the boundaries of the largest potential area are accurate, and go from there. And these images are fine to start with, but I want to see what JPL might have in their database. We might be able to get better resolution from them, as well as a dense history of images.”

“So what are you thinking, Charlie?” Don asked, bracing himself for a math monologue.

“I’m thinking that this requires more than just one humble mathematician,” Charlie said. “This is cross-disciplinary, so I’ve reached out to my colleagues at CalSci and some other institutions for some help. I’ll also need to get data from the California and U.S. Geological Survey. I’m actually waiting on a call from someone who co-led a team to develop a software program that I think could help us. It’s brand-new, still being tested, and I know that they would love to try it out on a case study.”

“What does the program do?” Colby stood and stretched, walking over to the screen to examine the images more closely.

“Well, it – hang on.” Charlie held up a finger as he dug his phone out of his coat pocket. “Hello? Hey, Hafeeza, thanks for getting back to me. Can you get on Skype right now? I’m at the FBI office and I think it would be best for this to be more of a group consult. Awesome. See you in a minute.”

Charlie moved his laptop over by Nikki and transferred the display cord from her laptop to his, opening up the video chat application and maximizing the screen so that everyone in the room could see clearly. He answered an incoming call request and suddenly a woman appeared on screen, smiling broadly at the camera.

“Hello, Charlie.” She spoke with the long vowels and the slight uplift finish typical of an Australian accent. 

“Hafeeza, it’s good to see you. Everyone, this is Dr. Hafeeza Singh of the University of Melbourne, applied mathematics division. Hafeeza, this is my brother Don Eppes, and his team.” Charlie quickly made introductions, sending a small smile in Ian’s direction when he introduced the sniper last. Hafeeza’s eyes were knowing when Charlie turned back to her.

“Pleasure to meet you all,” Hafeeza said. “Charlie tells me that you’re interested in our predictive modeling software.”

“We’re kind of following his lead on this one.” Don shrugged his shoulders slightly. “Could you tell us how it works?”

“I can tell you how we would like it to work,” Hafeeza chuckled. “The vast majority of the data that we used to develop the software came from the mining industry, since they are in the business of actively monitoring the ground to detect landslides and other shifts. It was quite a process, going through the data to identify the patterns that are the most reliable predictors of such events.”

“Trying to find a needle in a haystack?” David asked.

“It’s actually quite like trying to find specific needles in a haystack full of needles,” Hafeeza replied ruefully. “There is a wide range of patterns which might signify a land shift. The trouble was finding the patterns that most often immediately preceded a shift, and then running scenario after scenario within those parameters to refine it. Our intention is to be able to take data from monitored locations to provide early warning for land shifts, maybe even expand it for situations like shifts in the landfills which house the garbage cities in impoverished areas. Your case is a little different, though, because the land shift – or more specifically, the mudslide – has already occurred.”

“That’s true,” Charlie jumped in. “But my idea is to gather the actual data, or our best guess, about the conditions which preceded the Montecito mudslides and see what the program predicts, then compare that model to real world conditions. That will at least give us a general idea of how things shifted, and narrow down the area of interest.”

Hafeeza was quiet for a moment, considering. “That could work, though our project was never intended to reverse engineer land shifts. I’ll send you a beta version of the software so that you can tweak the code.”

Charlie grinned. “Yeah, we’ll probably need to, but it won’t be me doing it. I’ll leave the programming to Amita – you remember Dr. Ramanujan? We’ll save our work and send it back to you, just in case it’s at all helpful in refining the software – if that’s okay.” He glanced at Don, waiting for his nod of approval. None of the work on this case should be classified, but Charlie wanted to make sure.

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Don assured him. “Thank you for your time, Dr. –“

“Just Hafeeza, no worries. Happy to help. Stay in touch, Charlie, and let me know if you have any questions.”

“Thanks, Hafeeza, I owe you one.” The screen went dark, and Charlie turned back to the team. “This is just one small part of what we’ll need to have any real chance of finding…the, um. What we’re looking for. I’m just hoping that _this_ is the hard part.”

“What do you need from us, Charlie?” Liz asked.

“Get me the information on Wilson’s property and any available records or permits for heavy earth-moving work, like trenching or landscaping. If you can sift through his assets to see if he owned any equipment himself, that would also be helpful. I think the rest of the data is going to come from our geologist friends, and I’ve already reached out to Dr. Sorenson and Amita at CalSci to help us out.”

“So, I hate to ask, but when do you think you’ll have something?” Don stretched and rubbed the back of his head.

“Why, you worried that I’m not going to put in enough time on this?” Charlie’s eyes narrowed.

“No, Charlie, of course not –“ 

Charlie interrupted him. “Because I busted my ass on that last case, Don.”

The room was dead silent for a few seconds, and then Charlie couldn’t hold it in any longer. He burst into laughter, the rest of the team following suit. Colby was halfway out of his chair, he was laughing so hard. 

“That’s _not_ funny, Chuck,” Don growled. He looked over at Ian, who had a hand over his mouth to stifle his own laughter. “My brother thinks he’s a damn comedian.”

“I’m hilarious and you know it. I’ve been waiting – you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that opportunity.” Charlie still had a huge grin on his face. “I’m going to get started on this tonight, but a lot of it depends on how quickly I can get data.”

“Well, good luck with that, Charlie,” Nikki said, closing her laptop. “I think someone was saying something about mudslides?”


	4. Chapter 4

Ian carefully kept the plate level with one hand, holding two open beers in the other as he made his way out to the garage. The door was closed, and there was no response when Ian kicked it a few times with his bare heel. Rolling his eyes slightly, he set the beers down on the small concrete pad and turned the knob.

As he suspected, Charlie’s headphones were on, effectively placing the mathematician within his own little world while he was working. He was completely absorbed in the flow of the chalk scraping against the blackboards, line after line of inscrutable numbers and symbols filling up the boards lining the walls. His laptop was sitting on the old desk, the screen showing layers of satellite images similar to the ones that Nikki had pulled up in the war room earlier. 

Retrieving the beers, Ian kicked the door closed behind him, hoping that it would be loud enough to get Charlie’s attention. No such luck – his professor was unbothered, not even pausing in his work. Ian set the plate of pasta on the desk, took a sip of one of the beers, and held the cold surface of the other bottle to the back of Charlie’s neck.

Charlie jumped, grabbing the top of the blackboard to steady himself, and glared at Ian. He fumbled his headphones down so that they hung around his neck, and Ian could hear the heavy guitar riffs of a metal song wafting up from the small speakers. 

“Take a break, Professor,” Ian said, waggling the cold beer in front of Charlie. “I made pasta.”

“You did?” Charlie raised his eyebrows, impressed. It wasn’t that Ian was a bad cook, only that he didn’t cook very often. He was hardly ever in his apartment in Southbridge, and when out on a hunt he ate when and where he could. And of course he never turned down Alan’s cooking whenever he was at the house. “It smells good,” he said, taking the bottle from Ian.

“Tastes even better.” Ian produced a fork from his back pocket and stuck it into the noodles, then pulled the ratty office chair away from the desk invitingly. 

Charlie sank gratefully into the chair and lifted an impolite amount of pasta to his mouth, humming appreciatively at the taste. He used his free hand to push his laptop at Ian, turning it slightly so that the screen was facing him directly. “Mmph – while I’m eating, take a look at that. If you were a demented serial killer with a huge, secluded property, where would you want to bury the bodies of your victims?”

Ian adjusted the laptop, studying the image carefully. “This is one of the JPL satellite photos?”

Mouth full, Charlie nodded, chewing rapidly so that he could swallow. “Taken just a month before the mudslides, but after the wildfire. When Robin first brought this up I was worried that we were possibly pursuing a dead end – if Wilson hadn’t buried the bodies on his property, or if he hadn’t buried them at all, then this would be pointless. But Liz gave me a rundown on the property values in that area, and showed me some records. Did you know that Wilson received multiple offers from developers and private buyers? The highest one was in the neighborhood of eight million dollars. Wilson refused them all. Liz said that he was in a little financial trouble, too, had a few hundred thousand dollars in debt and he was barely staying afloat. Now why do you think he wouldn’t sell, even just a portion of his land?”

“Eat, Charlie,” Ian said absently, zooming in and out on different areas of the image. Wilson’s property was situated on a significant grade, with a lot of tree cover. But with the burn scars from the wildfire the foliage was sparse, allowing more of a glimpse of the ground surface beneath. Roots would make it difficult to bury anything large where the trees were more densely situated, but there were some clear areas that were likely out of view from access roads that surrounded the property. 

“What I wouldn’t give for a pre-mudslide laser topography scan,” Charlie said, in between mouthfuls of pasta. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was. He took a sip of the beer. “We’d be able to see any depressions that might be consistent with sub-surface decomposition. We did something similar for a case with LAPD a few years back.”

“Here.” Ian turned the laptop and pointed. “This looks fairly level, not too close to the trees and basically as far away as you can get from the access roads and even the driveway. Did anyone come up with any information on any equipment Wilson might have owned or had access to?”

“Not yet.” Charlie zoomed in on the area that Ian had indicated, and smiled. “Look at you. That’s basically exactly what I’ve been trying to find.” He leaned over and kissed Ian softly on the lips. 

“You’ve been staring at these and your boards for hours, babe. Sometimes you just need some fresh eyes.” 

“Let’s say we’re able to narrow down a place to search.” Charlie fiddled with his fork, pushing some peas around the plate. “How…um, how recent is the last…will they be using cadaver dogs to find them?”

“It’s the best way. Those dogs can sniff out where the bodies were, even if they aren’t there anymore, I talked to a handler on a case I worked years ago. Apparently they can detect the scent of human remains up to fifteen feet underground. So if you can tell them where to start and where to go from there, this is doable. Wilson will be going away for a long time.” 

Charlie nodded. “I’m meeting with Tyrell – Dr. Sorenson – and Amita tomorrow to work with Hafeeza’s modeling program. We’ll have something preliminary for sure, but I’m not sure how close we’ll be able to dial it in.”

“Professor, this is a tall order, even for your type of voodoo. Anything is better than what we’ve got, which is circumstantial evidence and a shit-ton of mud.”

“I guess that’s true.” Charlie gave a small smile, then his eyes suddenly widened. “Oh! I forgot to tell you – the safe was delivered today while we were at the office. Dad said the guys had a little bit of a rough time getting it in here.” He pointed toward the corner, behind the air hockey table. 

Ian turned to see a tall, heavy-looking black cabinet equipped with a key pad and a chrome handle. He got up and walked over to inspect it more closely. It seemed solid enough. With a niece on the way, Charlie had insisted that firearm security had to be tightened up around the Craftsman, and Ian agreed. They had all been a little lax about that, since Don was the only one of the Eppes family who actually owned and kept guns. Ian was surprised that Alan, of all people, had mildly resisted the idea of getting a gun safe – but then again the Eppes patriarch preferred to pretend there weren’t any guns in ‘his’ house, even when Don and Ian were there.

“4-4-6-7-8-7,” Charlie said. “Try it.”

The safe door clicked after Ian punched in the code, and he opened it to see his rifle already inside. He’d been able to find a reputable gun smith in the city to replace the stock after it was damaged, but his rifle had remained idle since he’d gotten it back. He hadn’t been back to the outdoor range. Not yet. It was habit now to suppress the feeling of unease that rose up inside him at the thought of failing to re-qualify on his weapon. He kept telling himself that he would wait, wait until his leave was over, wait until he was cleared for full duty to try. Bradford had encouraged him to just do it, to bite the bullet, as it were, and then at least he’d know where he stood. But he couldn’t make himself go.

“Get it?” Charlie was grinning as he braced himself and made a small hop to sit on top of the desk. “It’ll be easy to remember.”

Ian didn’t get it. “Why would that be easy to –“

“G-H-O-S-T-S.” Charlie nodded at the keypad.

Ian’s lips quirked up in a smile, suddenly feeling an overwhelming surge of affection for Charlie at this nod to the first case they’d ever worked together. He closed the door to the safe and made his way back to the desk, coming to stand in front of his professor. Charlie hooked his fingers into the belt loops of Ian’s jeans, tugging him closer, looking up at him through dark curls. 

“You have a good memory, Professor.” Ian gently laid his hands on Charlie’s shoulders, sliding them down his back until they came to rest on his hips.

“Only for some things,” Charlie shrugged. “Like that time when I met an incredibly handsome, sexy man who was also being kind of a dick. Now try asking me what I had for lunch yesterday.”

Ian laughed. “In my defense you were being kind of a know-it-all.”

“Ian.” Charlie gave him a serious look. “I am a _professional_ know-it-all, no ‘kind of’ about it. That’s literally what I’m paid to do.” He stretched a little so that his lips met Ian’s neck, right under his jaw. His hand tightened reflexively on Ian’s waist when he felt the sniper pull away. “Hey –“

“Just locking up, Professor,” Ian said, throwing the bolt on the garage door and pulling the curtain over the window. He moved back into position, putting a thigh up against the edge of the desk and pulling Charlie forward. He bent his head and took the mathematician’s lips in a kiss, leaning forward slightly so that he could brace his hands on the desk. Charlie’s body bowed back in tandem, and he instinctively grabbed Ian’s shoulders so that he wouldn’t topple over. 

After a moment’s thought, Charlie hooked his right leg around the back of Ian’s left knee, using it to hold himself steady so that he could slide his hands down to undo the button fly on Ian’s jeans. He heard Ian’s breath hitch as he worked a hand past the waistband of his boxers and pressed the heel of his palm against his hardening cock.

Ian smiled against Charlie’s mouth. “You feel what you do to me, Professor?” He rolled his hips forward, letting out a short groan when he felt Charlie’s fingers wrap around him. He lifted one of his hands from the desk and buried his hand in his professor’s black curls, tilting his head back to give him room to explore his jaw and neck with lips, tongue, and teeth. 

Breathing hard, Charlie tried to shift Ian’s clothes off of his sharp hip bones with one hand, mentally cursing his arms for being too short to undress his fiancé properly from this position. He squirmed in frustration. “Ian –“

“God, you’re wiggly,” Ian murmured fondly. “Let me take care of you, babe.” He leaned all the way forward, helping to support Charlie’s weight until he was flat on his back. He let his hand drag firmly down the mathematician’s chest until it came to the waistband of his jeans, then used both hands to undo them. Charlie lifted his hips as Ian tugged jeans and boxers down far enough to have unimpeded access to his cock, which was now lying flat against his stomach and leaking pre-cum.

Charlie let out a moan when he felt Ian’s lips wrap around the head of his cock, squeezing his eyes shut, just allowing himself to get lost in the sensations as Ian expertly traced the big veins with his tongue and mouthed at his balls. Charlie made a whimper of protest when he felt the wet heat of Ian’s mouth leave him, only for it to return in a new location. His breath hitched as Ian gently kissed the thin, red scar on the outside of his left hip, then slowly trailed his way up to the other surgical scar that sat low on his abdomen. He couldn’t understand or explain the tears that started to prick at the corners of his eyes as Ian lavished attention on those marks – it didn’t hurt. Far from it. Ian’s touch was electric, causing goosebumps to raise on the skin surrounding the area. 

“Look at me, Professor.” Ian’s tone was soft but commanding as he waited for Charlie to prop himself up on his elbows and look down at Ian with wide, dark eyes. Ian switched his attention back to Charlie’s cock, his gaze never wavering has he bobbed his head up and down, sucking and licking in turn. He reached down and worked his own cock free of his boxers, jerking it roughly as he moved.

 _How is he even real_ , Charlie thought wildly, trying to keep from bucking his hips at the sight of Ian pleasuring himself and Charlie at the same time. He knew his cheeks were red – it was almost unbearably hot, not least because he was still constantly in awe of the fact that someone as strong, confident and desirable as Ian wanted to do this to _him_ , wanted to make _him_ feel good. Wanted to _marry_ him. Ian could have anyone he wanted. And for some reason he wanted Charlie. Charlie wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to fully understand why, and he made it his business to understand things.

But maybe he didn’t have to question everything, Charlie decided, feeling himself getting close as Ian hollowed his cheeks, tonguing at the slit. Charlie’s hips jerked of their own volition, and he tried to choke out a warning. “Fuck, Ian, I’m gonna –“

Ian hummed in acknowledgement, feeling Charlie’s cock twitch in his mouth. He brought his free hand up behind the smaller man’s balls, pressing a knuckle into the skin behind them and letting one of his fingers tease at the ring of puckered muscle. He felt Charlie draw in a sharp breath, tensing and panting through his orgasm as Ian swallowed him down. There was a hand at his collar, Charlie insistently pulling him up for a sloppy kiss, his other hand joining Ian’s as he continued to stroke himself. 

With a muffled groan, Ian came, coating both their hands in his cum. He rested his forehead against Charlie’s, taking a moment to catch his breath while Charlie shifted slightly, peppering soft kisses on every part of Ian’s face he could reach. 

When Ian drew back, Charlie lifted their hands up, taking Ian’s fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean one at a time. The sniper let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “You’re unbelievable.” Ian ran his free hand through thick, dark curls. “Love you.”

“Love you, Ian,” Charlie said, gripping Ian’s hand tightly. This part of their relationship was still new – they’d spent so long not saying it out loud that they both treated ‘I love you’ as if it were a delicate thing that might break if they used it too often. But while the words were new, the sentiment was not. They were accustomed to saying and hearing it in a thousand little ways, so it wasn’t different. It was just more.


	5. Chapter 5

“Yeah, okay, so you see this here?” Dr. Tyrell Sorenson pointed at a column of numbers on his laptop screen. “This is what USGS is giving us for the average thickness of topsoil for that area.”

Charlie leaned forward, squinting a little in confusion. “Ty, there’s a significant difference in these numbers from the previous year.”

“And that’s exactly what we’d expect after a wildfire. Gas generated from the reaction of organic compounds and the fire permeates the soil and alters its composition beneath the surface – once it cools, it creates this hydrophobic layer, which makes conditions ripe for a mudslide even after just a few inches of rain. These measurements are taken from the hydrophobic layer, not from the bedrock. Everything on top of that layer just slides downhill – soil, rocks, dead trees, everything. If the erosion of the top soil is deep enough, then larger sections can break off as well.”

“Because there is a lot less vegetation keeping the soil in place,” Amita said, not looking away from typing on her own laptop. 

“That’s right,” Ty flashed a smile at her, the light brown skin of his face crinkling around his eyes. “It can take years for the type of regrowth that would bring the risk of a mudslide back to pre-wildfire likelihood.”

“The challenge here,” Charlie said, turning back to his board. “Is that the program was developed from monitored slopes, which means that it’s designed to accept telemetry, not field measurements.”

“So we make our data comparable to what we’d expect to see from those types of monitoring devices.” Amita said. “Can we do that?”

“I can try,” Charlie said thoughtfully, clicking the cap of his marker on and off. “Ty, you’re familiar with this instrumentation?”

“Very.” Ty nodded. “My department uses these gadgets all the time.”

“Then could you get me some of the data recorded by the instruments which correspond with field measurements taken from the same area? I bet I can generate some numbers that mimic instrument readings if I can see how they relate to field measurements.” Seeing Ty’s slightly disapproving expression, Charlie continued. “I know that the integrity of the numbers that I could generate are not an actual substitute for real _in situ_ readings, this is just to get us close enough to make some predictions on how this particular area shifted. We’re not trying to use the program to model any future land shifts, only what’s already happened.”

“However you end up generating plausible data, just promise me you won’t share it with my students.” Ty grinned. “That would be cheating.”

Charlie held up a hand in mock solemnity. “Mathematician’s honor.”

“Good enough.” Ty stood up and stretched. “I’m going to have to pull what we need out of our lab. I’ll be back soon.”

“This is really impressive, you know,” Amita remarked as Ty left the room. “Hafeeza and her team did some amazing work here.”

“I’m just glad they happened to call me for a consult on some of the algorithms, or I wouldn’t have known about it,” Charlie said, using his free hand to take a sip from his coffee mug and then making a face. It was cold.

“So…how’s Ian doing?” Amita asked, finally tearing her eyes away from her laptop.

“He’s well, he’s been cleared for light duty. He’s still got a couple more weeks of leave, though.”

“Good. That’s good.” Amita nodded, biting her lower lip. “Hey – so what’s the deal with you two? Is he planning to, like, move here after the wedding? Are you…are you thinking of moving to Virginia?”

Charlie dropped his marker in surprise. “What? No, no one’s going to move.” He looked at Amita, trying to decipher the odd expression on her face. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just…it’s not going to be weird, the two of you being married and not even living together? I thought…I mean, don’t you want him to live with you, Charlie?”

“I –“ Charlie started, a frown line creasing his brow. “Nothing has to change, we’ve been doing just fine up until now. Why would being married suddenly make it unworkable?”

“I guess it wouldn’t, necessarily.” Amita huffed a breath. “And I know it’s none of my business, Charlie, so I’m sorry if I’m overstepping, but…as your friend, I just want to know that Ian is as invested – as committed – as you are, okay? I guess I just thought that him moving here might be a sign.” She made herself meet Charlie’s eyes. “You gave up Cambridge for him.”

“No, it – it wasn’t like that,” Charlie protested. It _hadn’t_ been like that, not really. Not the way Amita was thinking. He pulled his office chair around the corner of his desk so that he could sit closer to her. 

“Look, I – Ian doesn’t even know about that, okay? He never asked me not to go, and I didn’t stay just for him. You’ve seen the way our relationship works, I’m confident that we could have made it six months without seeing each other. But…it just wasn’t what I wanted at the time, and I knew it as soon as I got the offer. If I’d gone, I would have missed Don’s wedding, I wouldn’t have been there for my dad when he fell off the ladder in the yard.” Charlie bumped Amita’s shoulder with his. “That – Cambridge had nothing to do with me and Ian. The timing wasn’t right, that’s all. Maybe I’ll get a similar offer in the future, who knows?”

“I’m sorry,” Amita said, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. “I wasn’t sure I even wanted to say anything, it’s only that I always thought you’d want something more traditional.”

“I didn’t _know_ what I wanted until I had it,” Charlie admitted. “Honestly. I’ve spent – there were a lot of expectations that I was raised with, and I’ve had to try to distinguish between those and what I actually want. Dad’s as traditional as they come, and I think Don is, too – although of course he was fine with Robin keeping her last name after they got married. I found that I’m not so good at ‘traditional.’ But this – I’m okay, Amita. This works for me. For me and Ian both.”

“That’s what matters.” Amita smiled. “No hard feelings for butting in?”

Charlie laughed. “No. I mean, you said something. Shows that you care, right?”

“Always,” Amita said, nodding firmly.

“Speaking of traditional…” Charlie glanced at her hesitantly. “How are you doing? I know that your parents expected you to be married long before now.”

Amita snorted. “They also expected me to go through with a marriage to a total ass, one that they arranged when he and I were barely old enough to talk. About the only thing I’ve ever done right in their eyes is – well, this.” She waved a hand around, somehow managing to make that small gesture represent her entire career.

“So what you’re saying is that there’s no handsome, wealthy Indian doctor in your life?” Charlie gave her a small smile.

“Not if I have anything to say about it. I’ve been too busy to get involved with anyone, and certainly not anyone who’s going to measure up to my father’s standards – so I’m not even trying. This Higgs boson project with Larry has been…it’s been so rewarding, Charlie. It’s still early, but I’m not exaggerating when I say that it may be our life’s work, our ultimate achievement.”

“That doesn’t surprise me at all. I haven’t heard from Larry in about a week – how’s the work at the Large Hadron Collider going?”

Amita had a huge grin on her face. “You know the way Larry’s voice kind of goes high and squeaky when he’s excited or angry about something? He sounds like that every time I’ve talked to him since he landed in Switzerland. In a good way.” 

“Sounds promising.” Charlie smiled a little wistfully. His thoughts wandered idly back to the cognitive emergence work on the boards in his garage, sitting untouched for – well, probably months by now. He knew that by the standards of his field, he was aging out of the period in his life in which he was supposed to be at his most productive. The idea caused a twinge of unease within him. It wasn’t regret, exactly. Charlie couldn’t regret the work that he’d done for the FBI. It wasn’t egotistical of him to acknowledge that his work had saved lives. He knew it had, both directly and indirectly. And the work that he was doing now… The DMV photos of Wilson’s victims floated to the top of his memory, five bright young women who’d had their own lives and futures, before a killer had decided to snatch those away from them. From the world. What he was doing now would bring them some measure of justice, and their families some measure of closure.

He’d never be sorry for that.


	6. Chapter 6

It was cooler in Montecito – or more accurately, just outside Montecito – than in L.A. About ten degrees cooler, Charlie decided as he carefully stepped out of Don’s SUV. He turned back to grab the large poster-size printouts that he and Ty had made after running all of their data – real and generated – through Hafeeza’s modeling program. 

Three more vehicles pulled up behind them, and Charlie’s stomach gave a nervous flutter as he watched the rest of Don’s team, two evidence recovery techs, deputies from the Santa Barbara County sheriff’s department, and the cadaver dog handlers start to get everything ready for this search. He knew that he, Amita, and Ty had done what they could with a program that wasn’t designed for how they were using it, and hoped that he wasn’t about to make this a giant waste of time and resources. Not to mention the potential damage it could do to Robin’s case if they didn’t find anything.

“So how does this work?” Ty asked, coming up behind him. “I never thought my career as a geologist would involve working with the FBI.”

“The main thing is that if you find anything, you call someone and _don’t_ touch it. Believe me, they don’t like that, and given what we’re looking for you wouldn’t like it either.” Charlie said with a grin as he tucked the printouts under his arm. 

Nikki and Liz joined them, dressed for field work in layered clothing, sunglasses, hiking boots, and FBI vests. Liz was scanning the terrain, a look of mild distaste on her face. Charlie couldn’t blame her – the landscape was devastated from both the wildfire and the mudslides. There was hardly any green vegetation anywhere, and burned, skeleton-like bodies of trees protruded from the ashy remnants of soil. It was a bleak place for a bleak task.

“You ready for this?” Nikki asked, with an air of forced casualness. 

“Is anyone?” Charlie replied softly, looking out across the search area.

01101110 01110101 01101101 01100010 01100101 01110010 01110011 0001010

Ian divided his attention between watching the cadaver dogs and their handlers work, and keeping an eye on how well Charlie was navigating the terrain. The math professor seemed as though he was doing just fine so far, but they’d only been going for a couple of hours, and the land they were covering was on a grade. The mud was pretty much dry, but their boots were all still covered in fine, pale dirt. Everyone was leaving deep footprints as they walked – it was a tracker’s paradise, if he’d been on a hunt for the living instead of the dead. 

Don came up beside him, observing Charlie and Ty putting their heads together over their model and satellite images. Ty pointed up the slope and then flattened his hand out, floating it down at an angle and then curving it down sharply as he talked. Charlie nodded in understanding, then beckoned one of the dog handlers over.

“Even after all this time I don’t feel like I’m used to letting computer models lead the way,” Don said quietly. The dog handler, an older man who looked to be in his fifties, whistled to his German shepherd and headed in the direction Ty and Charlie indicated.

“I know what you mean.” Ian had a slight smirk on his face. “But I never argue with results.”

As if on cue, the German shepherd jerked to a stop with its nose to the ground, took a few steps forward and then back to where it had paused. Then it whuffed quietly and laid down, looking intently at its handler. 

“Good boy, Samson,” the dog’s handler praised, slipping him a treat. The evidence recovery techs joined them, donning some nitrile gloves and scanning the ground before unpacking some excavation tools they’d brought with them.

“Where are we, Charlie?” Don asked, not wanting to disturb the process.

“This is one of the places that we – well, Ian – thought was likely to be Wilson’s preferred burial site. You can’t even see the vehicles or the house from here, right? And the open space here would have made it easier to dig.” Charlie waved his hand, which happened to be holding one of the rolled up maps. Don stepped back slightly to avoid being hit in the face. “Sorry.”

“The dog got a hit here,” Ian observed. “But they may not find any bodies.”

“He’s right,” Ty jumped in, pointing up the slope. “Look there – that’s the upper siliceous unit. It’s mostly diatomaceous mudstone with a lot of other good stuff mixed in. But can you see how it’s exposed now? There’s a ‘high water’ mark that you can see, maybe ten feet above where the soil currently is. That means that a big chunk of this hillside is now elsewhere, which is a volume in line with what our model predicted. That volume might include any bodies that may have been buried here before.”

“So can you tell us where it went? More specifically than just ‘downhill,’ I mean?” Don had his polite cop face on, sifting through what he didn’t understand in order to get to the relevant point.

“Roughly,” Ty said with a grin. “I think we can actually get pretty close, with this model that Charlie and Amita put together.”

“With your help,” Charlie reminded him, and turned to face down the slope. “We can keep going, right? We’ve got three dog teams, do they all need to be here with evidence recovery?”

“As long as it’s not too far,” Don said, glancing up at the sky. He was suddenly glad for summer in spite of the heat, and what it would mean if – when – they found Wilson’s victims. At least they still had a lot of daylight left. 

David and Colby stayed in the area where the first dog had gotten a hit, while the rest of them followed Charlie and Charlie followed Ty, relying on the geologist’s sense of the features of the landscape to guide them along the likely path of the mudslide debris. Ty kept up a running litany of explanation as they walked, pointing out the continuation of the mudstone and indicating when it transitioned into shale and dolomite.

Ian started to grow concerned when he noticed Charlie’s pace starting to lag, the mathematician slowing to the point where Nikki and Liz were now ahead of him, hiking along with Ty. Ian got Don’s attention with a light smack to the shoulder, and jerked his head in Charlie’s direction. Don glanced at his younger brother and frowned.

“Liz!” The lead agent called, raising his voice slightly. “Let’s stop for a minute and give the dogs a chance to catch up, all right?”

Liz gave a wave of acknowledgement and spoke to Nikki and Ty, the three of them halting a little ways ahead. Ian gave Don a short nod, then moved closer to Charlie.

“You doing all right, Professor?” Ian murmured, putting an arm around him.

“I should have brought a hiking stick,” Charlie admitted, rubbing at his left hip. Ian wasn’t sure what that meant in this context – the gesture had evolved into something of a nervous habit. Charlie noticed his expression and clarified. “It’s not hurting now, but I can tell that it will later.”

“We’re going to have to cover this ground twice, babe – we’ve still got to get back to the vehicles when we stop for the day. And that’s going to be mostly uphill.”

Charlie nodded, his mouth turned down in apprehension. “This is important.”

“It is, but it’s not something that anyone has to risk getting hurt over.” Ian kissed the side of his head.

“Maybe I can find something that will work.” Charlie looked around. Most of the slope was bare, having been swept clean by the mudslide, but there were pockets of accumulated debris here and there, usually at shear points in the mudstone formation. He made his way over to a pile of large rocks and branches, but winced as he bent down to retrieve a likely-looking stick. 

“I’ve got it, Professor.” Ian pulled the branch free and held it up, examining it critically. He flicked his knife out and used it to strip some of the bigger twigs away. Charlie took it from him and leaned on it experimentally. 

“This works.” Charlie smiled. “Thanks.”

“Take it easy, babe. Please.” Ian gave his shoulder a squeeze. “If you need to turn back…”

“I’ll be fine.” Charlie glanced around, and seeing that no one was currently looking their way, let his hand drift down to pinch Ian’s ass. Ian gave him a glare which promised retribution, and Charlie winked at him.

The remaining two handlers were now in conversation with Ty, the dogs sniffing idly around as they waited for a command.

“I think there’s a rift down there,” Ty was saying, pointing to a location on his map and then to the southwest. “It’s fairly big, and it could potentially be a debris collection point.”

“Just lead the way,” said one of the handlers, a solidly-built woman with dark skin. Her dog nosed at the bag of treats hanging from her belt, and she gently pushed its muzzle away.

The rift wasn’t too far away from where they were, and Don radioed back to David at the suspected burial site to check in. Nikki was following closely behind Ty, picking her way down carefully to where he stood in front of a huge jumble of broken tree trunks, boulders, and dried mud. It was up against an exposed ridge of shale, a natural break in the landside which provided a dumping ground for things that had been carried away in the mudslide. Nikki had seen news footage of the mudslide as it was happening, and photos of the aftermath. Entire trees washed away, cars filled to the windows with mud, homes that had completely collapsed when the erosion had eaten away at the foundations. The mess in front of her was chaotic and, on some level, impressive – the forces behind that kind of destruction were hard for her to imagine. 

“Be careful,” Ty warned as she stepped closer, peering into the debris pile. “It could shift at any time.”

Nikki flashed him a smile, then turned to Don as he joined them. “What’s the word, boss?”

“David says that they’ve uncovered one body at the other site, but there’s no way to identify it in the condition it’s in. We’ll have to run the DNA to be sure.”

“That’s good news, though.” Nikki returned to her examination, squatting down so that she could see underneath a log that was sitting at an angle, supporting a mess of branches and mud like a crudely-made lean-to. She squinted, her brow furrowing, and then unclipped the small flashlight from her belt and clicked it on.

A pair of dull, lifeless and clouded brown eyes stared back at her, and she recoiled with a startled oath. “Holy _– fuck!_ Don, I think we’ve got one here, too.”


	7. Chapter 7

Robin waited patiently for the federal detention center officer to finish a perfunctory examination of her briefcase in the security line. He handed it back to her, his eyes flicking down to her belly disapprovingly. She ignored him. It had been happening ever since she’d started really showing and it hadn’t stopped her from doing her job yet. It wasn’t going to now, not now that they had the bodies. 

Don had learned to keep his concerns to himself, too. She understood his protectiveness and loved him for it, but the world didn’t stop just because she was pregnant. People still committed horrible crimes, and she still presented the cases against them on behalf of the government. She didn’t care if she looked like she was about to pop, or that the day’s heat was making her feel nausea reminiscent of the morning sickness she’d had early on in her pregnancy. She had Wilson now, and she wanted him to know it.

Wilson and his attorney were waiting for her in one of the private interview rooms. All of the rooms were under surveillance, of course, and there were two officers standing right outside. Wilson himself was handcuffed to the ring secured to the heavy table.

Detention hadn’t agreed with him – not that it was necessarily easy on anybody. But when he’d been arrested, he’d been clean shaven, his wavy light brown hair well-maintained in a style where the sides were closely clipped, longer on top. That was how he looked in the mugshot that had been all over the news after his arrest. Now that cut was growing out, as was his beard, and he looked scraggly and tired. His eyes, though – his eyes were still pale gray and utterly without any hint of warmth.

“Ms. Brooks.” Wilson’s attorney nodded at her. This lawyer was young, not yet a partner, but working his way up in a respectable firm. Robin silently cursed her pregnancy-fogged brain and eventually dredged up the name. 

“Mr. Sanford. Mr. Wilson.” Robin didn’t bother sitting down. She wanted to avoid the spectacle of her trying to get out of the chair again, at least in front of these two. The disadvantage was that her belly was much closer to their eye level, but she had to make do with the options she had.

“I’m not going to bother with reviewing the events that led us to scheduling this meeting. You’ll have the opportunity to hear them in court, if you decide not to plead.” Robin removed a file folder from her briefcase.

“Is there a plea deal on the table?” Sanford asked quickly, his eyes sharp and fixed on the folder in her hands.

“There is not.” Robin didn’t allow herself the satisfied smirk that threatened to appear on her face. “You’ll get the formal evidence disclosure this afternoon, Mr. Sanford, but I wanted to come in person to let Mr. Wilson know that we found the bodies of four of his victims.” She pulled the photos out and laid them on the table, positioning them so that they were oriented for the two men across the table to view them.

“There are likely more where these came from,” Robin continued, watching their reactions in her peripheral vision as she pretended to straighten other folders in her case. Sanford looked worried – she knew that his defense up to this point would have been focused on the fact that the bulk of the evidence against his client was circumstantial. This development blew that tactic out of the water. Wilson looked completely unaffected, his cold eyes drifting indifferently over the photos. 

They weren’t pretty. The poor women’s bodies had been in bad shape, both from the natural process of decomposition and the battering they took during the mudslides. Don’s team was still working with the Santa Barbara County sheriff’s department to continue searching the area. 

“Rebecca McBride. Sharon Anderson. Kristi Long.” Robin tapped each photo as she recited the names. “DNA matches have confirmed their identities.”

“And what about this one?” Sanford asked, his tone slightly challenging. He indicated the last photo, one of a black woman – the second body found the previous day, and the one they had yet to identify. She was not one of the five missing women whose disappearances had led to Wilson’s arrest.

“The main reason I’m here,” Robin acknowledged. “I wanted to give your client an opportunity to do the right thing, and tell us what he knows about this victim.”

“Unless you have some kind of deal for us, my client declines to say anything about these alleged victims,” Sanford declared. Next to him, Wilson snorted.

Robin raised her eyebrows. “Something you find amusing, Mr. Wilson?”

Wilson’s mouth curled into an insolent, craggy smile. “This one isn’t mine.” 

Sanford immediately leaned over, placing a hand on his client’s shoulder as he whispered urgently into his ear. Wilson shrugged his hand off, giving no sign that he was paying any attention to the advice being given to him. 

Robin watched him, not even trying to hide the way she was weighing the truth of his statement. “Is this an admission that these other three women _are_ your victims, Mr. Wilson?”

Again, that slimy grin, nothing about the expression touching his eyes. “Take it how you want. But this –“ The man pushed the last photo away as far as he could with his hands cuffed to the ring. “She’s not my type.”

“And what is your type?” Robin asked pointedly.

Wilson’s eyes raked up and down her body, lingering on her protruding belly, and Robin had to steel herself from making any defensive movement to hide it from him. Showing weakness was not an option in her line of work – not as a woman, not as a _pregnant_ woman, and especially not in front of people like Wilson. She couldn’t deny that now she wished she’d brought her assistant, James, with her to the detention center, however.

“Tall. Pretty. Dark hair, though I wouldn’t say no to a blonde or a redhead.” Wilson sneered. “White.”

“She was strangled, just like the other victims. She was also pregnant, Mr. Wilson. They’re running a comparison between the fetal DNA and yours as we speak. What do you think that’s going to tell us?” Robin’s memory flashed back to the moment when Don had told her about the woman’s condition. She hadn’t been able to stop herself from tearing up, and she knew she couldn’t blame all of that on the hormones.

Wilson shrugged. “It ain’t gonna tell you shit about _me._ I told you – she’s not my type. Never seen her before.”

Robin held back a snort of disbelief at that – she doubted anyone could definitively state they’d never seen this woman before just from this photo. Since they didn’t know who she was yet, this was the only image of her they had, and the medical examiner had put her time of death at around two weeks prior. This fact was why Robin was inclined to believe what Wilson was saying. It was conceivable that he could have killed her just before he was arrested, but it was unlikely given that Don’s team had been surveilling him for five days up to that point.

“Well, that’s all I have, gentlemen.” Robin scooped up the photos and tapped them back into the folder, placing it back in her case. “My office will be in touch with you regarding the new evidence and court proceedings, Mr. Sanford.”

“Wait!” Sanford protested. “That’s it? You don’t have any sentencing recommendations that you’re willing to make if my client were to stipulate to any facts of the case?”

“There will be no recommendations coming from me or my office, Mr. Sanford. If your client chooses to be forthcoming then I’ll give the judge an accurate description of any corroboration of the evidence, but there won’t be anything close to a reduced sentence recommendation attached. Your client is a murderer, Mr. Sanford, and I never deal with murderers when I don’t have to.” Robin snapped the clasp closed on her briefcase as she left the room, letting the door slam with finality behind her.


	8. Chapter 8

The atmosphere at Gonzales’ was crowded but relaxed. It wasn’t packed, but there were more people at the bar than there usually were on a weeknight. Ian idly scanned the other patrons from his position at the end of the bar counter, sipping sparingly from his Moscow mule. Don was at home with Robin, but the rest of the team hadn’t wanted to end another day’s worth of searching a mud field for murder victims on a less than positive note. The cadaver dogs had scented more remains in some new spots, but no additional bodies had been found. 

Charlie had classes and a department meeting that he couldn’t get out of that day, but he’d met them at the bar and surprised everyone by bringing Ty with him. The geology professor hadn’t been specifically invited, but he was welcomed, and was currently deep in conversation with Nikki at the group’s table. 

The mathematician was at one of the pool tables with Colby, laughing at the agent’s attempts to distract him as he proceeded to run the table. The Eppes had a table in the garage, and Charlie got plenty of practice on it. Colby scowled when Charlie sunk the eight ball in one of the corner pockets.

He was moving easier today, Ian noted as Charlie made his way around the table to remove the balls from the pockets and roll them over to Colby, who was racking them up for the next game. After that first day in Montecito, Charlie had iced his hip and used his cane since then. Ian knew that Charlie hated to feel as though the progress he’d made since the surgery was being undone, but he was happy to see him taking it slow.

Colby looked up as he was centering the rack on the table and saw Ian watching, then nudged Charlie, that shit-eating grin on his face. Ian couldn’t make out what Colby said, but then Charlie also looked up and met his eyes, a soft smile stealing over his face as if only one person in the world were meant to see it. Ian smiled back, taking in the view. Because of his meeting, Charlie had dressed up a little, forgoing his usual T-shirt and sport coat in favor of a nice white button-down tucked into some dark jeans, complete with a buttoned charcoal gray pinstripe vest. Ian wasn’t sure if Charlie had also started the day with a tie, but he wasn’t wearing one now. The first couple of buttons on the shirt were undone, and he’d rolled the sleeves up to his elbows when he’d started playing pool. 

Ian liked what he saw. He liked it a lot.

His reverie was interrupted by someone settling on the stool next to him at the bar and calling to the bartender for an order of whatever was on tap. The man glanced over at Ian appraisingly, then smiled. “Can I get you a refill?”

“Still working on this one,” Ian said, amused. The man was good-looking and confident in a way that showed he knew it. He was a little taller than Ian, with clean-cut blonde hair and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. He wore a T-shirt which clung just enough to show off his well-built chest and muscled arms. He would have been exactly the type Ian would go after for a hook-up, but that part of his life was now years in the past.

01101110 01110101 01101101 01100010 01100101 01110010 01110011 0001010

“Hey Charlie,” Colby elbowed the mathematician, who had been chalking his cue stick in preparation for their next game. “Don’t look now, but there’s a total hottie at the bar checking you out.”

Startled, Charlie looked up to see Ian’s eyes on him, and he smiled reflexively. There was heat in Ian’s gaze, and Charlie was starting to regret agreeing to another game.

“Dude, I told you not to look!” Colby said jokingly. 

“I know, I’m the worst,” Charlie agreed, not breaking eye contact with Ian. His smile faltered a bit when he saw a tall, fit man take a place at the bar next to Ian and strike up a conversation with obvious intent.

“Why don’t you get David to play this next one?” Charlie asked, leaning his cue stick up against the table and grabbing his cane instead. “You’ll actually have a shot at winning.”

Colby rolled his eyes. “Yeah, fine, whatever. I’m just biding my time, whiz kid. Going to take you by surprise one of these days.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Charlie threw over his shoulder with a grin, already on his way toward the bar counter. He slid an arm around Ian, pressing closely against his side. “Hi.”

“Hello, Professor.” Ian smirked and leaned down for a brief kiss.

Charlie turned slightly so that he was facing the man next to them. He held out a hand. “Charlie,” he said with a friendly smile.

The man looked the two of them over, and then took Charlie’s hand and shook it. “Adam. Nice to meet you, and…”

“Ian,” the sniper supplied, but didn’t move to extend his own hand. 

Adam smiled slightly and nodded. “You two have a good night.” He picked up his beer, took a sip, and then moved down the bar to where there was another empty space.

“Staking your claim, Professor?” Ian murmured next to Charlie’s ear, nuzzling slightly at his neck.

“Absolutely,” Charlie said, his tone slightly smug. “And I’ve got something at home that might help with that.”

“Oh yeah?” Ian was intrigued. “What might that be? Something sexy?”

Charlie shifted, leaning his cane up against the bar stool so that he could wrap both arms around his fiancé’s waist. “You’re just going to have to come and see,” he said, looking up at Ian.

“Then let’s get out of here,” Ian said, kissing from the hinge of Charlie’s jaw down to his clavicle, exposed by his open shirt collar.

“Dammit,” Charlie muttered suddenly. “I gave Ty a ride here from CalSci.”

Ian lifted his gaze toward the table where Liz, Nikki and Ty were sitting. The three of them were talking and laughing together, but Nikki’s chair was right alongside Ty’s so that they could sit shoulder-to-shoulder. “He may have a different ride lined up, babe.”

Charlie followed his line of sight and grinned. “Interesting. Let me go check in with him, and I’ll meet you at the car.”

“Heeeeey, Charlie!” Liz greeted him enthusiastically as he approached the table, and judging by the number of empty glasses in front of her, the enthusiasm had been helped along a little. “Pull up a chair.”

“Actually, Ian and I are ready to head out,” he said, shaking his head and smiling. “Ty, I know I drove you over here –“

“Don’t worry, Charlie,” Nikki said as Ty opened his mouth to speak. “I’ll make sure he gets home safely. Eventually.” She pointed at Liz, who was waggling her eyebrows at them. “I’m going to have to get this one back to her condo in one piece, what’s one more stop?”

“Uh, thank you.” Ty ducked his head a little, trying to hide the dark flush on his cheeks. “That will – that will be nice.” He looked up at Charlie. “Thanks for bringing me along.”

“No problem. I guess I’ll see you on campus tomorrow.” Charlie squeezed Liz’s shoulder, then waved to David and Colby, who were over by the pool table.

“Go get laaaaaid, Charlie!” Liz shouted after him as he headed toward the exit. “Someone’d better be gettin’ some tonight!”


	9. Chapter 9

Ian was a little surprised not to see Alan’s car in the driveway of the Craftsman when he and Charlie pulled up to the house, but then he remembered Alan saying something about poker night over at Stan’s place. He was glad – hopefully there wouldn’t be any interruptions to whatever it was that had Charlie sending bright-eyed, furtive glances over at him during the ride home.

He allowed himself to be led upstairs, though they took it slowly for Charlie’s sake. When they entered their room, Ian sat at the end of the bed, looking up at Charlie expectantly. “Well?”

“Patience.” Charlie leaned his cane up against the wall next to the door, then retrieved a small padded envelope from the top of his dresser and tore it open, pulling out a tiny cardboard box. Charlie took the lid off and fished out a ring from its bed of soft cotton. He examined it closely, then held it out to Ian, his face suddenly going red.

“Um. I ordered it a while ago, and I wasn’t sure when, you know, I’m supposed to give it to you but I didn’t want to wait…”

Ian took it from him, turning it over in his hand. It was a wide silver band with two parallel inlays, one of tiny turquoise pieces and one of hammered copper. Ian was…well, he was speechless. He never wore jewelry. In the military and in his FBI career, there were too many times when he would have just had to remove it, so it had always seemed like a lot of effort to go to for no reason. But the ring he held in his hand was beautiful, and Ian thought that if he were the type to wear jewelry, this was something he would have picked for himself.

Almost as if he could hear Ian’s thoughts, Charlie grabbed another item out of the padded envelope. “This is for when you either can’t or don’t want to wear it, if you don’t have somewhere safe to keep it.”

Charlie held up a black necklace-length leather cord, made up of small strands braided together. “Look at this.” He rotated the cord until he came to the round silver clasp. He set his thumbnail against the ridge of the small barrel and pulled it back to reveal how the clasp fastened – two metal pieces that locked together like a puzzle and slid apart when they weren’t held in place by the barrel.

“It’s supposed to be really hard to break, or come undone by itself,” Charlie said. He briefly met Ian’s eyes and then returned his focus to the cord, fastening and unfastening the clasp nervously.

The ring slipped almost perfectly onto the third finger of his left hand, Ian noted. It felt cool and strange against his skin, but not in a bad way. He reached out to still Charlie’s hands as they fiddled with the clasp. “Hey.”

“Do you like it?” Charlie asked, his voice small. Ever since he’d gotten the text from his dad that the ring had been delivered that afternoon, he couldn’t wait to give it to Ian, but now he was doubting himself. “It’s okay if you don’t want to wear it, I know that you don’t usually –“

“It’s _perfect_ , Charlie.” Ian pulled him down for a kiss, locking their mouths together before leaning back, falling onto the bed with Charlie on top of him. “How did you know what size to order?”

“I, um –“ Charlie said breathlessly, interrupting his kissing along Ian’s jaw. “I measured your finger while you were asleep.”

Ian laughed. “Creepy.”

“Sneaky,” Charlie corrected. “But now people will know that they’re wasting their time when they want to hit on you in bars.”

“I think you’re cute when you’re jealous,” Ian said, then teased Charlie’s earlobe into his mouth. He slid one hand up Charlie’s side, under his vest, while the other made its way down to Charlie’s ass. The mathematician squeaked when Ian’s hand got a firm grip, and Ian stilled his movement when his fingers encountered something unexpectedly hard through the fabric of Charlie’s jeans.

“What the fuck – Professor, are you wearing a plug?” 

Charlie let out a nervous laugh. “Actually, yes.”

Ian felt like his brain was short-circuiting. _“Since when?”_

“Since just after you called to let me know to meet you at Gonzales’.”

“So all those times that you bent over the pool table to take a shot…”

Charlie buried his face in Ian’s neck, and from the heat on his skin Ian could tell that he was blushing furiously. “It was a little distracting.” But he’d still run the table.

 _“Fuck.”_ Ian was suddenly achingly hard, and he had to stop himself from ruining Charlie’s vest and shirt by just ripping them open. “Get these clothes off, Professor. _Now.”_

Breathing hard, Charlie rolled off of Ian and scrambled to obey, fumbling at the buttons on his clothing. Ian hauled himself to a standing position, making quick work of his shirt, jeans, and underwear and then making his way to the dresser that had the drawer with their toys. 

Charlie kicked off his boxers and was just reaching behind him to remove the plug when Ian returned, the long black silk scarf dangling from his hand.

“Ah-ah, Professor, don’t touch. We’re not done with that yet.”

“Ian.” Charlie actually whined. The tip of his cock was red and dripping pre-cum. Ian guessed he’d been half-hard for hours now.

Ian pushed him gently onto the bed, climbing up after him and pressing forward with insistent kisses, urging Charlie back until he was sitting upright against the headboard. He gathered Charlie’s wrists together in front of him and wrapped one end of the scarf around them, making sure to secure it with a slip knot that could be easily undone with just a tug. The other end was the extra length of silk, which Ian used to raise Charlie’s hands above his head. He gripped Charlie’s chin with his other hand to hold him in place while he kissed him deeply, his tongue probing and sliding against Charlie’s. He didn’t stop until they were both gasping for breath.

“Now,” Ian panted, relaxing his grip on the scarf. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” He shifted back on the bed and gently helped Charlie spread his legs, being careful not to push him too wide. A black plug was nestled between his cheeks. 

Ian’s breath quickened, and he met Charlie’s wide-eyed gaze. “You picked the vibrating one?”

“Well, yes,” Charlie said. “I figured it would be the next best thing if you still wanted to wait on fucking me.”

A chuckle bubbled up before Ian could stifle it. Charlie glared at him. “Don’t laugh. I already feel stupid enough for planning this far ahead to seduce my own fiancé.”

Ian surged upward and kissed him again. “Babe, this is probably one of the hottest things you’ve ever done. It’s anything but stupid. And as long as you’re feeling okay, I would love to fuck you tonight.”

“Now?” Charlie asked, a hopeful note in his voice, moving his bound hands to trace light patterns on Ian’s chest with his fingers.

“Professor,” Ian purred, nuzzling at Charlie’s neck. “You can’t bring out the toys and expect me not to play with them.” Charlie groaned and shuddered against him. Then he yelped as Ian pressed against the plug in his ass, pushing the button that would turn the vibrations on, then holding it to activate the setting that would switch the vibration pattern at random intervals.

“Good?” Ian asked, and Charlie nodded frantically, his mouth hanging slightly open. Ian decided to put that mouth to good use, and again tugged Charlie’s wrists over his head. Ian rose to his knees, straddling Charlie’s legs, and inched forward until his cock was positioned in front of Charlie’s face. Ian braced his hand against the wall, keeping Charlie’s bound wrists in place, and ran the fingers of his other hand through Charlie’s hair.

Charlie flicked his eyes upward and licked his lips, but to Ian’s surprise he didn’t touch his cock as he moved forward. Instead, he focused on Ian’s hip, licking up along that sharp bone and gently nibbling at the top. He worried at it for a moment, then took some of the skin into his mouth and sucked, raising a bruise. He smiled against Ian’s skin when he heard the sniper suck in his breath with a hiss. Then he kissed and licked his way along Ian’s tight stomach, completely ignoring his cock when it twitched. He gave Ian’s other hipbone the same treatment, sucking another bruise so that it almost exactly mirrored the placement of the first. 

Only then did Charlie turn his attention to Ian’s cock, teasing at the tip with his tongue, running his lips up and down the shaft, before finally taking it in his mouth. His technique was wet and soft – he wasn’t trying to get Ian off, so he was focusing on contact instead of suction. He had taken Ian’s cock about halfway when the vibration in the plug changed to a much more intense pattern, and he moaned, pulling off and panting hard.

“Doing all right, Professor?” Ian asked softly.

“Ian, please!” Charlie gasped, tugging against the scarf binding his hands as he squirmed. “I need – I need –“

“Do you need to stop, Charlie?” 

“Don’t you _dare,”_ growled Charlie, glaring up at Ian.

“Then let’s see what we can do to make you more comfortable.” Ian carefully got up from the bed, letting Charlie’s arms drop down to his lap. He slid one arm under Charlie’s knees and the other curled around his shoulders so that he could shift the smaller man into a prone position. Charlie cried out as he moved and Ian froze. “Babe?”

“I’m okay, the vibration switched again.” Charlie tried to give Ian a reassuring look, but his dark eyes were wild, he was so worked up. 

“Can you roll over for me? I’ve got an idea.” Ian waited until Charlie had moved onto his stomach, then gently wedged a pillow underneath his hips. “Is that all right?”

“Yes,” Charlie breathed, still squirming a little.

“Good.” Ian lay down on his side, trailing his fingers down Charlie’s spine, causing the mathematician to shiver and close his eyes. He increased the pressure of his fingernails, hard enough to leave faint marks, always dragging his hand down in the same direction but changing positions so that he was scratching every part of Charlie’s back, with some strokes descending all the way down his ass. He could feel the muscles tensing and relaxing under his touch, the reactions to vibrations of the plug and the sensation of his nails, all culminating in little hums of pleasure that had Ian’s cock twitching with anticipation.

Ian shifted so that he was straddling Charlie’s lower legs, careful not to put any of his body weight on him. He bent down and started to play with the plug, pulling it partway out and twisting it, and then nudging it deeper, right up against Charlie’s prostate. 

Charlie’s body jerked, and he groaned loudly, his bound hands clenched around a pillow. Ian smirked and let his lips wander around the right side of Charlie’s ass, unable to resist giving a few sharp nips. 

“Ah – I’m not gonna last, Ian,” Charlie gasped, his hips grinding against the pillow.

“Come whenever you want, Professor. You’re getting fucked either way.”

“Then – mmph! – do it already!” Charlie whined, twisting slightly to look back.

“Bossy.” Ian straightened with a grin and reached for the nightstand drawer, retrieving the bottle of lube. After a moment’s hesitation, he closed the drawer without removing anything else. It had been two months since he’d been out in the field, and even longer than that since he’d had any potential exposure incidents. He warmed some of the lube in his hand and slicked up his cock, giving himself a few hard strokes to take the edge off.

Charlie whimpered when Ian gently turned off and then removed the plug, and then again when Ian gave him two fingers, checking to see if his rim needed to stretch any further. He needn’t have worried – Charlie was nice and loose and suddenly Ian couldn’t wait any longer. He braced himself on his knees and elbows, caging Charlie’s body beneath him without actually weighing on him, and easily slid in his cock.

“God you feel amazing, babe,” Ian grunted.

“Mm-hmm…been way too fucking long,” Charlie murmured, then moaned as Ian began to move.

It had been a long time, and Ian wanted to make it last, he really did. But Charlie started clenching down on him right away, so he didn’t bother to start out slowly. The sound of flesh slapping on flesh was punctuated with gasps and groans. Ian shifted to put more weight on his left arm, freeing his right arm to snake loosely around Charlie’s neck, guiding his head to just the right angle for them to kiss. Ian mirrored his thrusts with the movement of his tongue, until Charlie suddenly made a noise that was swallowed up in the kiss and came hard, his body going stiff for a moment before he relaxed, pulling away slightly so he could catch his breath.

Ian muffled his own cry by biting into the muscle of Charlie’s shoulder just hard enough to bruise, finishing with a few more thrusts. He reached up and tugged at the knot of the scarf binding Charlie’s wrists, pulling it undone. Then he rolled to the side, his chest heaving, his right arm twinging a little after supporting his weight for so long. 

Charlie turned to face him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling himself flush against him. His eyes were bright, still coming down from the high of his orgasm.

“If this is what it’s going to be like afterward, I am going to buy you _so much_ jewelry,” he said, and Ian laughed.


	10. Chapter 10

Liz winced as she got out of the SUV. A beam of sunlight shining through the trees got her right in the eyes, and she quickly donned her sunglasses. She could already feel the headache setting in, and it wasn’t helped when she saw Ian turn toward her, raising his eyebrows as he sipped coffee from his travel mug.

“Rough night, Warner?” Ian smirked.

“Shut up, Edgerton,” Liz grumbled, taking a long drink from her water bottle. 

“Come on, you don’t want to hear whether Charlie got laid last night?”

“Oh god,” Liz moaned, rubbing her forehead. “Will you please just shut up?”

“He did.” Ian grinned widely.

Liz glared at him, feeling her face flush with embarrassment at this reminder of how drunk she’d been. “That must be why you’re in such a chipper mood this morning.”

“Doesn’t hurt,” Ian acknowledged, and tipped his head back to finish off the last of the coffee.

Something caught her eye, and she leaned forward to get a better look. “What’s that? Oh my god, is that a ring?”

“I want to see,” Nikki demanded, joining them. She reached out and picked up the ring from where it hung around Ian’s neck. “Nice. Did you pick it out?”

“Charlie did,” Ian said, shifting a little. He grew more uncomfortable when Don, Colby, and David walked over, finished with the conversation with the county deputies. Liz smirked, pleased at having turned the tables on him.

“Check out Ian’s new bling!” Nikki grinned. The other agents leaned in, taking a closer look.

“So are you and Charlie going to have, like, separate bachelor parties?” Colby asked, his face brightening. “You want me to plan one? Or both of them? I could plan both of them.”

David elbowed him. “Man, you’ll be lucky if you’re even invited.”

Colby gave his partner an offended look. “I planned Don’s!”

“Yeah, that’s why you’ll be lucky to be invited.”

Ian had no idea what to say. He’d barely got his mind wrapped around the concept of planning a wedding, let alone all of the other shit that went with it. “Uh –“

“All right, all right, we didn’t drive all the way up here for party planning,” Don grunted. “The county deputies have some information on our Jane Doe and if we want to get started for the day we’re going to have a briefing first. Come on.” 

The lead agent hung back to walk with Ian, who was trying to suppress the urge to adjust the ring so that it hung inside his shirt, out of sight.

“It looks good,” Don commented. 

“Yeah,” agreed Ian, deciding just to leave it for now.

“Have you found one for him yet?”

“No. Not exactly sure where to start.”

“Let me know if you want any help,” Don said, clapping Ian on the shoulder. “I don’t know a lot about jewelry, but I’m basically an expert on Charlie.”

“Will you?” Ian knew that some of the relief he was feeling could be heard in his voice. “This –“ He touched the ring absently. “It was just right. Whatever I get him, it’s got to be right, Don.”

The Santa Barbara County deputies were gathered in front of their vehicle, and one of them handed out copies to the FBI agents as they approached. 

“Tanya Lafon?” David raised his eyebrows and looked up from the report. “You were able to ID her?”

“Sheriff Reynolds ordered a county-wide search of relevant missing person reports, which meant making some phone calls to the municipal police departments, but it turns out the Jane Doe is actually a local girl. She was only reported missing nine days ago – she was supposed to be away at school at U.C. Santa Barbara, and her parents didn’t know she hadn’t been in class until the university called them to check on her.” Deputy Kama tapped the edges of her remaining copies on the hood of the truck, getting them back in order. “We got a DNA sample with permission from her parents. It was a match.”

“Lafon was from around here?” Don asked, perusing the report intently.

“She lived on campus, but her permanent address is listed as her parents’ home in Summerland, yes.”

“Do you have any information about any time Lafon might have spent in L.A.?” 

“Nothing that her parents knew about,” confirmed Deputy Pineda. “There would have been no reason for her to be there.”

“Wilson found all of his victims in the city. They lived there,” Nikki said. “This was the dumping ground only because he owned property here.”

“And Lafon doesn’t fit the profile of Wilson’s preferred victims,” Liz added. “The five women that we can positively attribute to his series were all older than college-age, single career women. Not to mention what he said to Robin when she interviewed him.”

“Timing doesn’t match up, either,” noted David. “Lafon’s time of death was during the time we had Wilson under surveillance, and he definitely didn’t kill anybody on our watch.”

Don scowled, both at the fact that this surprise murder was nowhere near solved, and at the reminder that his wife had been in the same room as Wilson. He knew it was her job, he knew that she’d been safe. But he was glad that these were her last few days before her maternity leave. He’d be happy if she never had to see that murderer again. “So Wilson is definitely not Lafon’s killer, then.”

01101110 01110101 01101101 01100010 01100101 01110010 01110011 0001010

A few hours later, and Ian had split off from the others, acting on a nagging hunch while the cadaver dogs and their handlers searched some nearby debris piles for more of Wilson’s victims, using Charlie’s model as a guide. He wanted another look at that first big one, where they’d found Lafon’s body. The medical examiner’s report had stated that there were no signs that Lafon had been buried at any point, so was it likely that she had been dumped somewhere else and then washed away, like the others? Or had someone been counting on the remoteness of the area to prevent her from ever being found?

The woods, or what was left of them, seemed unnaturally quiet. The wildfire and mudslides had swept most of the ground-covering vegetation away, which meant fewer places for birds, small animals, and insects to do their thing. At least the debris pile was easy to find. Even if Ian hadn’t remembered which direction to go, their tracks from the first day were still clear. There hadn’t been any rain this week.

Ian made his way down the slope along the rift, heading for the lower ground where the debris had settled. There were multiple sets of paw prints – he recognized the wide paws of the German shepherd, the slightly smaller ones of the Labrador. Almost the entire group had tracked all over that site during that first day, so Ian wasn’t paying much attention to the footprints until he neared the natural lean-to in which Lafon’s body had been found. Something wasn’t quite right.

There was a set of fresh prints just in front of that hollow, as if someone had squatted down on the balls of their feet to look inside. Nikki had done that, and so had the deputies and evidence recovery techs when they were ready to retrieve the body. But while there were the solid, wide depressions where Lafon had been laid out while she was being prepared to be transferred to a body bag, the fresh sign was layered on top of them. 

Someone had been here. 

Ian took out his phone and snapped some photos of the partial boot prints, just in case anything came along to disturb them later. Then he straightened, casting his sharp eyes around the ground until he found what he thought was a full print from the same boots. The guy – with the width and depth of the prints it was more than likely a man – was big, the length of the boot print longer than Ian’s. The length of his stride was long, too. So…tall, and heavy-set. Ian snapped a few more photos, then unclipped the two-way radio from his belt. He kept sweeping the surrounding trees with his gaze. The tracks weren’t that fresh, but Ian didn’t want to be caught unawares. 

“Edgerton, to Eppes.”

The radio crackled in response. “This is Eppes, go ahead.”

“I’m down by where Lafon was found. Check with the deputies to see if anyone from their department has been here without us. I’ve got fresh sign and I want to know who it belongs to.” Ian waited, shifting his weight slightly from foot to foot. He could feel himself getting antsy, his instincts telling him that he was now on a hunt.

“No one’s officially been up here without us, Ian.” Don’s voice came in loud over the radio, and Ian adjusted the volume slightly. “You’re saying we’ve had a visitor?”

“That’s what it looks like. I’m going to scout this out.”

“Not alone, you’re not!” Don’s reply was punctuated by a burst of static.

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Ian snapped back, conveniently forgetting that he was supposed to be on light duty. “I’ll radio if I need anything. You just keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Edgerton –“ 

Ian was a professional. He wasn’t stupid enough to turn his radio off, but he did lower the volume even further to more easily ignore pointless chatter.

The guy was a first-timer, Ian decided after following the tracks more or less straight back to a house, miraculously still standing after the mudslide. He could see the high water mark about three feet up on the siding, but the house seemed to be in pretty good shape, considering. There hadn’t been any attempt at misdirection or to hide the trail, as though the guy hadn’t expected anyone to follow him. The better sense Ian got of his target, the more he believed that dumping Lafon’s body was opportunistic, unplanned.

He wasn’t on Wilson’s property anymore, Ian was certain. That made things tricky. It was better to do as much recon as he could before getting Don on the radio and figuring out where to go from there. He leaned his left side up against a tree, not caring if the charred surface of the wood left smudges on his jacket. He had his spotting scope on his belt, and he used it to survey the house that was just below him on the grade.

There was a truck and a four-door sedan in the driveway. A light on in what looked like the kitchen, but no movement that Ian could see. There were stained cardboard boxes visible through the open garage door, stacked up against the wall as if they’d been removed for clean-up and not yet returned to wherever they had been stored. There were some items piled haphazardly on top of them. Lots of hunting gear hanging neatly on another wall, which meant a more-than-decent chance of guns and rifles in the house.

Ian frowned thoughtfully, then reached into his back pocket, pulling out and unfolding the missing person report on Lafon. He scanned it quickly, looking for the physical description. There it was – ‘last seen wearing jeans, gray and white striped shirt and mint green zip-up hoodie.’

Lafon hadn’t been wearing a hoodie the day they found her. Ian trained his scope on the stuff sitting on top of the boxes. He couldn’t say for sure if that was a zip-up hoodie, but it was definitely mint green. 

He tucked the report back into his pocket, then picked up the radio.


	11. Chapter 11

People often assumed that just because he was a mathematician, Charlie found any conversation about numbers to be interesting. To be fair, that was almost entirely true. The major notable exception to this belief was departmental budget meetings. These were _not_ interesting, in fact they were about the furthest thing from interesting. He suspected that Millie was well aware that he felt that way, and kept inviting him out of spite.

He twitched as he felt his cell phone buzz in his pocket, and couldn’t quite bring himself to feel any shame as he glanced quickly at the screen and then murmured an apology as he left the room. He answered it out in the hallway. “Robin, perfect timing. How are you?”

“If we manage to catch another murderer today, I’m going to be fucking fantastic,” Robin replied. She actually sounded a bit tired, but these days that was how she sounded most of the time.

Charlie raised his eyebrows. “Another murderer?”

“The Jane Doe that was found, that first day. She’s not one of Wilson’s victims. And Don and the team are currently in the Montecito hills, waiting on a search warrant for a house. Ian found some fresh footprints from where the Jane Doe – who’s been identified as Tanya Lafon – was dumped. The footprints led to this house and they think that some of Tanya’s belongings are in there.”

“Well, that’s great,” Charlie said. “Um, thanks for keeping me updated.”

Robin laughed. “This wasn’t just an update, Charlie, I’m calling because I need your help again. I’m sorry, I know it’s short notice, but if there’s any way you can drop what you’re doing –“

“Oh! Happily,” Charlie said. He’d probably get an earful from Millie, another lecture on prioritizing work for the FBI over CalSci responsibilities. But he was getting pretty good at weathering those without taking them too personally. “What do you need?”

“We’re actually on our way to pick you up from CalSci,” Robin said. “We’re heading down to the federal courthouse on First to meet with Judge Groh to justify the issuance of the search warrant. He said that he won’t issue the warrant without a clear understanding of why the team knew to search the area in the first place, and I need you to come explain it to him. Please?”

“Of course.” Charlie mentally reviewed the methodology, and the supporting materials. “I have copies of the maps and the modeling in my office, I can grab them. Do I need to bring my laptop? If we need to, I can get Ty on the phone if Judge Groh has any questions on the geology –“

“The maps should be just fine, Charlie,” Robin reassured him. “Is it okay if we just meet you in the faculty parking lot? It would be best if we can get this warrant issued as quickly as possible.”

“Absolutely, see you there.” Charlie ended the call and headed toward his office.

01101110 01110101 01101101 01100010 01100101 01110010 01110011 0001010

Don’s phone pinged with a notification, and he smiled when he saw the screen. The warrant had come through. Robin really was amazing – of course Charlie had helped, but when Robin set out to do something it gone done quickly. He looked over at his team. “Nikki, the warrant just came through. Could you print it out in the SUV? We’ve got to go over the game plan, here.”

Deputy Pineda cleared his throat. “I pulled up the call history for this address – the current occupants moved in about ten years ago, and that’s when we started getting domestic disturbance calls. The calls stopped about two years ago.”

“Why’d they stop?” Liz asked, grimly. 

“I think the wife moved out – I have the property owner listed as Kyle Maslow, several arrests for assault and DV, but no convictions. He’s got a college-age son who – get this – is currently a student at U.C. Santa Barbara.” Pineda looked up. “Isn’t _that_ a coincidence.”

“Colby, call the office and ask them to get everything they can on that kid – we got a name for him?” Don asked.

“Evan Maslow,” Pineda supplied.

Colby nodded and stepped away from the group, pulling out his cell phone.

“He’s got access to firearms,” Ian said. “Seems our boy Kyle is a hunter.”

“Comms and vests on is a given,” Don agreed. “What’s the approach to the house like?”

“Exposed, except for the vehicles in the driveway. There’s a big picture window facing the front but it’s raised high enough off the ground to come around the house from that side and wait in position without being seen.”

“Exits?”

“Front door, back door, open garage,” Ian reported. “Or the windows, if he feels like risking a drop.”

“Does anyone at the sheriff’s department have any kind of rapport with Maslow?” Don asked.

Deputy Kama shook her head. “There’s no love lost there. Can’t say he’ll respond very positively to the FBI, either.”

“No one likes the FBI,” Don said with a tight grin. “Okay, so we’ll park a few houses down and approach on foot. Nikki and Colby on the driveway side, David and Liz from around the side of the house. Ian will cover the house from the back –“

“No.” Ian cut in coldly, his face neutral.

Don looked at him surprise, and then his expression changed to one of chagrin. “Sorry, Ian, I forgot.” He mentally kicked himself for not remembering that Ian hadn’t re-qualified on his rifle yet, that he hadn’t even brought it with him. It was just habit to assign the sniper to a cover position.

“I’ll come around the house with David and Liz, stay on the side to be ready to head for the back door if he bolts,” Ian said shortly, and Don nodded.

The lead agent turned to the deputies. “Kama, Pineda, what do you say we go knock on a door?”


	12. Chapter 12

Robin breathed a sigh of relief as they exited Judge Groh’s chambers, but it transitioned into a slightly pained grunt as she felt a kick on her side. She pressed a hand on her belly and tried to massage it a little, but her girl wasn’t taking the hint. “Quit it,” she muttered, then turned to face her companions.

“I can’t tell you how grateful we are for your help, Charlie,” she said, smiling warmly.

“Any time,” Charlie said. “I’d much rather talk about computer models than discretionary spending.”

“Let me text Don about the warrant, and then maybe we can get something to eat? I’m starving.” Robin retrieved her phone from a side pocket on her briefcase.

“It’s still early for dinner…” James said, checking his watch.

“Never argue with a pregnant woman when it comes to food, James,” Robin told her assistant, in a mock-severe tone. “Ben?”

Her colleague, an older man with graying hair and beard, couldn’t hide the rumble his stomach made at the question. “I haven’t even had lunch,” he said, chuckling sheepishly. 

“You’re going to have to remember to eat now that you’re the lead prosecutor on the Wilson case,” Robin admonished, and they headed down to the parking garage. She was glad that they hadn’t had to park outdoors – hungry as she was, she knew that the heat would boil away her appetite if she had to spend too much time in the sun.

Robin headed for the backseat of Ben’s sedan, where she’d sat on their way to the courthouse from CalSci. Charlie stopped her. “Robin, please – I know that you’ll be more comfortable if you sit up front. Ben’s up to speed, and we’ve got the warrant. I can sit in the back.”

She wasn’t about to argue with him. With her belly as big as it was, she barely felt like she had enough room even in the passenger seat, and she was grateful that Ben had been willing to drive. 

“So where to?” Ben asked, pulling out onto First. “The person who’s growing a human gets to choose.”

“Damn right,” Robin grinned, and then tapped her belly thoughtfully. “I could go for something like Thai food.”

“There’s a place about two blocks from here,” James offered. “I’ve been there with my boyfriend, it’s really good.”

“Right or left?” Ben asked, checking his mirrors.

“Left up here, and then the second right,” instructed James. 

Ben waited at the light until it changed to a left-turn only signal, pulled forward –

And the world exploded in a chaotic discordance of noise and shattering glass.

01101110 01110101 01101101 01100010 01100101 01110010 01110011 0001010

Charlie didn’t think he’d blacked out – it took him a moment or two for his mind to cut through the noise and adrenaline and pain to understand what had just happened. He coughed – there wasn’t any smoke, he didn’t think the engine was on fire, but there was dust hanging in the air and an acrid smell burned his nose when he breathed it in. He didn’t quite feel in control of his body as he looked around – James was sitting next to him, groaning and holding his arm. 

Airbags. That’s what he was smelling. They’d deployed because someone had hit them on the driver’s side. Charlie pulled his gaze toward the front of the car – Ben was unmoving, slumped against the deflating steering column airbag, only his seatbelt holding him upright. And Robin…

Robin was trying to hold back her screams, clutching at her belly and bleeding from the side of her head, where she’d hit the window.

“Oh god,” Charlie mumbled, fumbling at the buckle of his seatbelt. It took him a few tries to get it to release, but once it did he was able to suck in a deep breath – he hadn’t realized how much it had tightened around his waist and chest until the pressure was suddenly no longer there. He yanked at the handle of the car door and shouldered it open, blinking dazedly as he stepped outside. There was a bright red truck stopped at the other end of the intersection. Its front end was damaged, but other than that, it looked nearly brand new. A tan, muscled man in cargo shorts and a tank top was standing next to it, gesturing and yelling angrily on his phone. He hadn’t even glanced over at them.

Charlie’s left leg trembled and threatened to collapse under him as he took a few steps forward, but it was holding, and he needed to get to Robin. He pulled at the door handle, but it didn’t open. Locked. He gingerly reached through the broken window, trying to avoid the tiny pieces of glass that were scattered everywhere, and manually unlocked the door.

“Robin?” Charlie shrugged off his jacket, then his open button-up shirt, glad that he’d dressed in layers today. He rolled the shirt into a bundle and pressed it against the wound on the side of Robin’s head, and she cried out. 

“I know,” he said, trying to sound soothing. “But you’re bleeding. Here, let me –” He stretched carefully over Robin so that he could reach her seatbelt buckle. Like his, it had tightened across her body, and it released after the second time he jammed his thumb hard on the red button.

Robin instantly took a few deep breaths, trying to push through the pain to reach a more coherent state. “Charl – augh! Something’s wrong, Charlie, it hurts.”

“It’s going to be okay,” he reassured her. “We’re getting help, we’re going straight to a hospital.” He looked at James in the backseat. “Can you call 911?”

James nodded, his face pinched with pain, and he was holding his left arm curled tightly against the side of his chest. “I can do it.”

Charlie half-listened to James’ side of the call as he turned the rest of his attention back to Robin, who had reached out and gripped his free hand tightly. “Does it hurt anywhere else?”

“Can’t tell,” Robin groaned. “Feels like fucking contractions, but it’s not – I’m not – _augh!”_ She squeezed her eyes shut. She took another couple of heaving breaths. “I’ve had false labor contractions before, this is not that.”

“Are you –“

“I don’t think so!” Robin nearly screamed. “I don’t think my water’s broke, Charlie, something is really wrong!”

Charlie could hear sirens – distantly at first, but getting louder. Car horns were blaring all around them, drivers shouting to each other about what was going on. “Help is coming, Robin, it’s going to be okay.”

“Charlie…” Robin pulled him down, closer to her, and from this angle it was a little more difficult for Charlie to keep the pressure on her wound. “I can’t lose her, Charlie.” She directed her gaze down to her belly, her other arm curled protectively around it. “You are not done cooking, little girl, you _stay put!_ You’re setting a dangerous precedent here.”

“You’re not going to – you won’t, Robin, that’s not going to happen,” Charlie said firmly.

“I was –“ Robin choked off a scream, then gasped. There were tears running down her face. “I was pregnant twice before, Charlie. I can’t lose her.”

Charlie stared at her. Don hadn’t said a thing – not like it would have been easy to talk about, or even necessarily any of Charlie’s business. It was between Don and Robin. But to know that they’d experienced such loss during the year that they’d officially started trying… It made Charlie’s heart ache for them, and though he knew he couldn’t, he wanted to wrap Robin up in a tight hug. 

Then his eyes widened. _Don._

He had to call Don.

“James,” Charlie called, looking over to where James was trying, as best as he could with one good arm, to see how Ben was doing. “You still have your phone? Can you call Don?”

“I tried, Charlie. He didn’t answer.”

 _The warrant._ “They’re serving the search warrant,” Charlie said aloud, in realization. “They won’t be taking calls if they’re using comms, but we can reach him through the dispatcher.”

“I – I don’t have that number,” fretted James.

“I have it memorized.” Charlie quickly rattled off the number for the FBI dispatcher. “Use the words ‘family emergency.’ Tell them that Robin’s been in an accident and that we’re headed to a hospital. Stay on the line with them until we know which one.”

James nodded in acknowledgment, already on the phone. Charlie saw an ambulance pull up on the other side of the car. He realized with a start that several LAPD patrol cars had already responded to control the traffic at the intersection – when had that happened? He tried to guess how long it had been since the crash, and his mind came up blank. Time felt meaningless, running fast and slow simultaneously.

“Over here!” Charlie yelled, seeing two EMTs get out of the back of the ambulance. “She’s bleeding from the head and she’s eight months pregnant, she –“

He looked down as he felt Robin shift, her hand falling away from his, her eyes closed as her head relaxed and drooped against the bunched-up shirt in his hand.

“Robin?” Charlie felt his stomach drop. _“Robin!_ Get over here, she needs help!”


	13. Chapter 13

It actually felt good to be back in a vest, Ian thought, as he crouched on the side of Maslow’s house with David and Liz. It felt right, in a way that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He heard through his earpiece that Colby and Nikki were in position between the two vehicles in the driveway, and Don’s confirmation that he and the deputies were ready to approach the front door. 

There was the sound of knocking, and Pineda’s voice calling, “Mr. Maslow! Sheriff’s department, Mr. Maslow!”

Ian was right under the kitchen window, and he heard muffled steps and what sounded like a door being flung open. “He’s inside,” he murmured into the mic.

“Mr. Maslow!” Pineda called again.

Silence. Ian glanced up, and seeing no one at the window, shifted to the side and stood slowly, keeping his back pressed to the side of the house. He craned his neck to get peek inside. He could just see into the main hallway through the kitchen. There was a scuffling sound, and then he saw a figure move into view.

“Gun!” Ian shouted into the mic. 

There was the roar of a shotgun blast, then another. 

Ian let out the breath he’d been holding when he heard Don yelling to fall back, but didn’t relax. He turned and ran toward the back of the house, arriving at the back door just in time to catch Maslow with a clothesline takedown which lifted the big man off his feet before slamming him down to the ground on his back. The sniper snatched the shotgun out of Maslow’s suddenly lax grip, keeping his Glock trained on him.

“I’ve got Maslow, we’re out back,” Ian reported in. Liz and David had been right behind him, David ascending the back steps to clear that part of the house. Liz holstered her weapon, hooked the toe of her boot under Maslow’s shoulder and unceremoniously flipped him over onto his stomach. She cuffed his hands behind him and started to read him his rights, putting a knee between his shoulder blades when he tried to heave himself up.

“House is clear,” Don said, appearing at the doorway. He raised his eyebrows at Ian, who still had his weapon pointed at Maslow. “This is your idea of light duty?”

“I wasn’t the one getting shot at,” Ian retorted. “Everyone okay?”

“Kama caught a few pellets in the arm, she was closest to the door. But it could have been a lot worse. Thanks for the heads-up.” Don looked down at their suspect. “What do you think we’re going to find in the garage, Mr. Maslow?”

“Go fuck yourself, fucking pigs!” Marlow spat, trying to clear some of the dirt away from his mouth.

“Suit yourself.” Don shrugged. 

“Don? Don!” Nikki came around from the side of the house at a run. “You took out your earpiece, boss, dispatch has been trying to get a hold of you.”

Don swore and fumbled his earpiece back into his ear, listening intently. Ian saw his face go white, and his hand shook as he took it away from his ear. 

“I – I need one of the vehicles, I’ve got to get back to the city,” he said.

“What’s wrong?” Ian asked quietly, bracing himself for the answer.

“It’s Robin – there was an accident. Some idiot ran a red light, and – I need a vehicle.” Don looked at Ian. “Charlie was with her, I –“

Ian felt his blood run cold. “What?”

“Don.” David came down the back steps and put a hand on Don’s shoulder. “We’ve got this, there’s plenty of room in Liz’s SUV and the deputies are going to help us out. You and Ian should go.”

“Right.” Don rubbed the back of his head anxiously. “Right, we should –“

“I’ll drive,” Ian said briskly. “Come on.” 

01101110 01110101 01101101 01100010 01100101 01110010 01110011 0001010

They didn’t get much more information as they sped to L.A., lights and sirens blaring – only that they were headed to Good Samaritan. Don had tried calling both James and Charlie with no luck getting either of them on the phone, and with each failed attempt Ian’s anxiety grew. Don finally resorted to calling Alan, telling him as much as he could about the situation and practically begging him to get to the hospital as soon as possible. 

Ian glanced over at Don, who was rubbing his jaw and looking at his phone, hoping for and at the same time dreading a call back, exuding a kind of nervous energy that reminded Ian sharply of Charlie. He didn’t know what he could say – he wasn’t one to offer platitudes, and it didn’t feel right to say anything that could come off as an empty promise. They didn’t even know exactly what had happened, and what was going on now.

“Don.” Ian reached over and nudged the agent’s shoulder. “Hey, Don.”

Don finally looked up, his dark eyes glassy and his mouth set in a thin, tight line. 

“Whatever happens, whatever we walk into when we get there – you’re not in this alone, Don. You don’t have to handle it by yourself.” 

“Thanks, Ian,” Don said, nodding. He let out a shaky breath. “That means a lot.”

When they arrived in the emergency department at the hospital, Don rushed to the reception desk, crowding the space of a woman who was talking to nurse with a hurried apology.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt but my wife was brought in here, maybe two hours ago? I got here as quickly as I could, her name is Robin Brooks.”

“Brooks…Brooks…” The nurse spoke quietly to herself as she searched the records. “She came in with two injured males, correct?”

Ian tensed. Don shook his head rapidly. “Probably? I don’t know, I only got the information through dispatch. I’m with the FBI.” He flashed his badge.

“I have it here that your wife is in surgery, Agent…Eppes. I’ll let the lead physician know that you’re here, for when she’s ready to give you an update.”

“She’s pregnant,” Don said desperately. “Almost eight and a half months, do you know –?”

“I’m sorry.” The nurse looked at him sympathetically. “This is all the information I have right now, but I promise that as soon as there’s an update available, the physician will be right out.”

“What about –“ Ian cleared his throat, surprised to find that it didn’t seem to be working properly. “The men that came in with her, are they –“

“Donnie!”

Both agents turned to see Alan standing behind them, his arm around Charlie, who was looking pale and anxious. 

“Charlie!” Ian went weak with relief, and practically fell into the surprised mathematician’s arms. It was strange – he felt like he was short of breath, that he wasn’t getting enough air. Charlie’s arms were firm where they circled his waist, but his own were trembling, clinging to Charlie’s shoulders like he was the only thing holding him up.

“Ian!” There was alarm in Charlie’s voice. “Ian, are you all right?”

“I –“ Ian panted. “You – you didn’t answer your phone.” He sank to the floor, landing on his knees, right in the middle of the reception area, and Charlie had no choice but to sink down with him, holding him tightly. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Charlie whispered, reaching up with one hand to stroke through Ian’s hair. “I was holding my phone when the truck hit us and it flew out of my hand – I didn’t even think to look for it, I’m sorry, Ian. I didn’t mean to worry you. Come on, slow breaths, right? Breathe with me, Ian.”

Ian struggled to at first, but he’d spent most of his life learning how to control his breathing. He buried his face in Charlie’s neck but that didn’t smell right – it was all sour adrenaline-sweat and dust. He raised his head a little until he could smell Charlie’s hair, and that was better. After a few deep breaths he fell naturally into the rhythm of breathing in for three counts, holding for three, and exhaling in three.

“Do you think you can get up now?” Charlie murmured, not trying to extricate himself from Ian’s grasp. He looked up and nodded a thanks when his father handed him a bottle of water.

The sniper let out a breath and nodded, suddenly extremely embarrassed. What the fuck happened there? He let Charlie stand up and offer him a hand, but he put his own arm around Charlie’s waist when he noticed that he was heavily favoring his left side.

“Are you hurt, babe?”

“Just sore,” Charlie said, tiredly. “I’m fine. Drink some water.”

“Did you get checked out?” Ian asked sharply, not moving to take the bottle from him.

“EMTs looked me over, I’m okay.” 

They headed toward the waiting area, where Alan had his oldest son enveloped in a tight hug. Don broke it off when he saw them approaching. “Charlie, what happened?! Are you okay? How was – is Robin –?”

“She was hurting a lot right after the crash.” Charlie’s voice was quiet and raspy. “She was worried about the baby. She hit her head on the window and I was trying to stop the bleeding, Don, I –“ He ended on a sob. “I’m so sorry, Don.”

“Hey, hey, buddy.” Don reached out and pulled Charlie into a hug. “What are you sorry for?”

“I told her to take the front seat,” Charlie’s breath hitched again. 

“Charlie.” Don closed his eyes and shook his head. “This isn’t your fault. There was nothing you could have done – this was just some asshole running a red light, am I right? That’s what the dispatcher said.”

Charlie nodded, his eyes glued to the floor. Don gave him a gentle shake, trying to get him to look up. “This happened, there’s no changing that. But I’m glad you’re okay, and I’m glad you were there for her. You did good, Chuck.”

Don was surprised when Charlie’s arms flew around him, but he chuckled slightly and settled into the hug, patting his brother’s back awkwardly.

“Excuse me, here for Robin Brooks?” Called a woman in scrubs standing close to the reception desk.

Don nearly tripped over himself in his eagerness to get to her. “Me! I’m her husband, I’m here for Robin Brooks.”

“Dr. Kirkham,” the woman said, shaking his hand. “I’ve got an update on your wife’s condition, Mr. Brooks, she’s out of surgery and in recovery, and your daughter is spending a little time in NICU, just so we can make sure she has a good start, but as of right now she’s doing just fine.”

“I – what?” Don gaped at her. “My daughter?”

“Six pounds, eight ounces, nineteen and a half inches long,” Dr. Kirkham said with a smile. 

“Oh my god,” Don said faintly. “I have a daughter.” He felt Charlie’s hand slip into his and give it a squeeze, giving him support without interrupting.

“Yes, you do. Congratulations, Mr. Brooks.”

“It’s Eppes,” Alan corrected quietly. “Robin kept her name.”

“Oh – I apologize, my mistake. As I said, Robin is in recovery. The trauma of the car accident caused the placenta to detach from the uterine wall, a placental abruption, and we had to perform an emergency C-section to save both of them.” Dr. Kirkham pursed her lips. “Your wife lost a lot of blood, but we have her on fluids and we’re ready to give her a transfusion if needed, but if everything goes as we expect, it shouldn’t be. You’ll be able to see her when she’s out of recovery, though she’ll be coming out of sedation.”

“How, um, how is she?” Don asked anxiously.

“She’ll need to stay with us for at least a few days – she’d need that time anyway, having had a C-section, but with the abruption we also want to monitor her for any complications. After that, about six weeks of recovery – I hope that she was planning on maternity leave?”

“Uh, yeah, she was actually supposed to start at the end of the week,” Don said.

“Excellent, well, she starts now,” Dr. Kirkham grinned. “Do you want to go up to NICU? Third floor, you can’t miss it. We can page the nurses there when your wife is ready to have visitors.”

Don could only nod, dumbly. 

“Donnie,” Alan reached out and grabbed him, squeezing him in a bear hug and kissing his cheek. “You’re a father. _Mazel tov.”_


	14. Chapter 14

“Hello?” Charlie poked his head inside the room that Robin was assigned to, tapping softly on the door frame. Robin was sitting up in bed – well, more like her bed was raised and she was laying against it, but she was awake and smiling, holding a tiny blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms. Don was half-sitting on the bed, crouched over his family with the softest smile Charlie had ever seen on his face.

“Come on in, guys,” Robin nodded, and Charlie entered the room, tugging Ian behind him, and Alan following. His arms were full with a large stuffed bear and a bunch of Mylar balloons proclaiming ‘It’s a girl!’

“Dad, that’s bigger than she is,” Don said, watching as his father set the bear down in the chair next to the bed.

“I’m not expecting her to carry it around quite yet, Donnie,” Alan snorted. “She’s only a day old, now, come on. Let’s have her.” He held his arms out expectantly. 

Don huffed a laugh and stood, making his way around the bed so that he could more easily take the baby from Robin’s arms. He gave his wife a gentle kiss on the forehead as he did so, smiling down at her before turning to face the others. 

“I’d like to introduce you to Leah Margaret Brooks-Eppes,” Don tilted his arms so that they could see the tiny face poking out from under the pink hat.

Alan had dropped his hands in shock, staring wide-eyed at his son. “Margaret?”

“It’s too late to change it, we already filled out the birth certificate,” Don said jokingly, but his eyes were soft. 

“That’s – it’s…it’s a good name,” Alan nodded, swiping quickly at his eyes.

Don looked back down to his daughter. “I know you’re asleep, Leah, but you’re meeting your family for the first time. At least for the first time that’s not through a big window. This is Zayde. And these are your uncles, Charlie and Ian.”

“But Zayde gets to hold you first,” Alan said insistently, holding his arms out again. Don laughed and carefully transferred the baby to her grandfather’s loving and eager hold. With his hands occupied, Alan couldn’t wipe away the tears that were now running freely down his face.

“How are you, Robin?” Charlie asked quietly, taking a few hesitant steps toward her. He was using his cane today. 

Robin held out a hand, inviting him to come closer. “I feel like I just had major surgery, and I feel like the luckiest new mom in the world. She’s so perfect.”

“She’s…small,” Charlie said absently, looking back at the baby settled in his father’s arms.

Robin laughed. “They usually are. She’s actually a good size for being two weeks early.”

“Have you heard from James? Is he okay?”

“Yes.” The smiled slipped from Robin’s face. “His arm was broken, but he was in and out yesterday. No surgery required, it was a clean break and he needs to wear a cast for about two months. Ben’s still here, he’s going to have a longer recovery than I am, unfortunately. But his kids are working that out for him, and meanwhile the office is going to have to assign another new lead prosecutor to the Wilson case.”

“I called Gary Walker yesterday,” Don said, his voice hard. “The other driver is being charged with reckless driving. But that’s all he can be charged with – he wasn’t impaired, he wasn’t even on his fucking phone –“

“Don, can we hold off swearing in front of the baby until she’s a week old at least?” Robin rolled her eyes.

“Sorry.” Don looked slightly ashamed. “Anyway, he was just in a hurry and decided to blow through that red light. Ben didn’t do anything wrong.”

“That’s good,” Charlie said, rubbing his eyes. He hadn’t gotten much sleep after going home from the hospital last night.

“My turn?” Ian asked hopefully, standing in front of Alan. Alan grumbled a bit but surrendered the baby, and Ian held her in his arms like a pro. 

“This isn’t my first rodeo,” he said, seeing Don raise his eyebrows. “I’m already an uncle, remember? When Jen had her first, I stayed with her for a few months to help out. You can’t live in the same house as a baby and not pick up a few things.”

Don didn’t say anything, just held up his phone and snapped a photo of Ian Edgerton, FBI sniper instructor and nationally-ranked marksman, making a goofy face at the tiny baby. 

“Text that to me,” Charlie said automatically, his eyes fixed on the sight of the man he loved with a baby in his arms.

“You get a new phone yet?”

“I’m picking one up today, I can just swap the SIM card. So you can send all the baby photos to the same number and I’ll get them when I activate it.”

“Charlie,” Robin reached out and took his hand. “I just want to thank you for what you did yesterday.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Charlie mumbled, squeezing her hand back.

“Yes, you did,” Robin said seriously. “And I appreciate it.”

“Okay, Charlie, you get to hold the baby now,” Don declared, retrieving his daughter from Ian.

Charlie looked panicked. “That’s all right, Dad can –“

“Hold the baby, Charlie.”

“I –“ Charlie glanced down at his cane. “I don’t know if –“

“Here,” Ian said, picking up the huge stuffed bear and handing it to Robin, who wrapped her arms around it, absently smoothing a hand over the soft, fake fur. “Take a seat, Charlie, it’ll be okay.”

Don bent down a little once Charlie had settled in the chair, chuckling a little at the way his brother couldn’t take his wide eyes off the baby. “She’s really little, are you sure?” Charlie looked up worriedly.

“You’re going to hold the baby, Charlie.” Don held her out, positioning Charlie’s arm so that the crook of his elbow was cradling the baby’s head. “Hold her close, like a football.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “That is probably the least helpful analogy ever, Don, you know I never played –“

“Just hold the baby, Chuck. There, see? You’ve got her. That’s perfect. Now look at this.” Don gently tugged the pink knit cap off of his daughter’s head. It revealed thick tufts of black hair, which were standing straight up. She squirmed a little and wrinkled her face, but settled quickly.

“She’s got your hair!” Charlie laughed in amazement. 

“Right?” Don grinned. “Poor Leah. We noticed it fluffing out like that after it was fully dry. I think she’s got Robin’s eyes, though.”

Charlie looked down at the little human in his arms. Yesterday she wasn’t here, and today she was. He knew, intellectually, how that happened, how it was possible for a new person to just pop out into the world, but he was still trying to get his head around the reality of it, this new member of the family. She shifted in her blanket, her mouth working a little, then sleepily blinked her eyes open, holding his gaze with her own. 

“Hi, Mags,” he whispered, and she made a soft noise in return.

01101110 01110101 01101101 01100010 01100101 01110010 01110011 0001010

“A panic attack?” Ian said, looking at Bradford skeptically.

“What do you think it was?” Bradford asked mildly, his face holding the same calm expression that it always did. It was nearly impossible to get a rise out of the counselor, and Ian had tried, both intentionally and unintentionally, since he’d started meeting with him.

Ian shrugged and didn’t say anything.

“Describe what you were feeling, what you were thinking right up until then,” Bradford suggested.

“We got to the hospital,” Ian said reluctantly. “We didn’t know what to expect – all we had was the information given to the dispatcher. I didn’t…I didn’t know if Charlie was okay. And when we talked to the nurse, she mentioned that there were two injured men who were in the same car as Robin, and I thought Charlie was one of them.”

Bradford nodded, but didn’t say anything. Instead he allowed Ian the space to continue, like he always did, the bastard. 

“Charlie and Alan were there, and when I saw him, I –“ Ian swallowed hard. “I remembered the last time he hadn’t answered his phone.”

“You mean when he was attacked?”

“Yeah.” Ian cleared his throat. “And it was overwhelming, to the point where I couldn’t stay standing, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Charlie talked me through it.”

“And how have you felt since then?”

Ian looked down, shifting on the leather couch in Bradford’s office. He actually liked the office – there was a nice view. Lots of natural light. It didn’t feel confining or exposed, it was…it was a neutral space. Dammit, Bradford was waiting for him to talk again. Ian remembered wasting almost an entire session with Bradford early on, refusing to speak until Bradford did, and the counselor had played his game. They’d sat in silence together for about forty-five minutes. Ian was the one who broke.

“Terrified,” Ian said quietly. “I feel terrified, okay? I’m afraid of losing Charlie, if something were to happen to him, I –“ He cut himself off. “I don’t know how I would handle it.”

“Something. What do you mean by something?” Bradford inquired.

“You know what I mean,” Ian mumbled, looking away.

“I think I do. But honest communication is clear communication, and sometimes it helps to say things out loud.”

“My mom always said that if you said it, you invited it,” Ian said flatly.

Bradford raised his eyebrows. “Is that what you believe?”

Ian shrugged again.

“I’m going to let that go for now,” Bradford said. “But I want you to think about why you’re talking around it. So. You said you’re feeling, and I quote, ‘terrified.’ What are you going to do about that?”

Ian looked at him in confusion. “What do you mean? It’s not like I can just change it.”

“Sure you can,” Bradford said, the corners of his mouth lifting a little. “There’s always something that you can do, concrete choices and actions. Even doing nothing is a choice. So what are you going to do about it? Let me put it this way: you feel terrified. What is your gut telling you to do? What do your instincts say?”

“Fuck!” Ian surged to his feet and started to pace, unable to sit still. “Why are you asking me this?”

Again, Bradford remained calmly silent, following Ian with his eyes without saying a single word, without giving Ian anything to focus on other than the question.

Ian suddenly stopped pacing and took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to fend off an impending headache. _“Leave,_ okay? My instincts are telling me to leave. Are you happy now? Jesus Christ.”

“You know, Edgerton, that actually makes perfect sense for you.”

“What?” Ian’s head snapped around, and he glared at Bradford. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You just admitted what your gut is telling you to do. What you actually _want_ to do, we’ll cover that in a minute. What I’m saying is that based on what you’ve told me during our time together – what your life was like growing up, enlisting in the military, your sexual assault, the entirety of your career in the Bureau – the fact that your instinct is to leave is not a surprise. It’s what you’ve been trained to do, over and over. You had to leave your childhood home, your military unit – all to protect yourself. And now that you feel another threat, this fear – your instincts are telling you to protect yourself.”

Ian thought about that, scowling. Then he sat back down on the couch, slumping a little. “So?”

“So what do you _want_ to do? Do you actually want to leave Charlie?”

“No.” Ian replied without hesitation. 

“Okay, it’s good that you know that,” Bradford said. He leaned forward in his chair, bracing his elbows against his knees. “This is fairly new territory for you, in a lot of ways. One of the scariest things about it is knowing that you’re opting in, actually choosing to experience and live this feeling of vulnerability. Let me ask you something – do you trust Charlie?”

“Yes.” Again, there was no hesitation before Ian answered.

“So you actually have nothing to fear from him, as a person and as a husband. What you’re afraid of is just…life. Like the car accident. There are things outside of your control. But I’m going to let you in on a secret – actually, it’s not even a secret, but for some reason law enforcement types in particular have a hard time accepting it. It’s this: you can’t control everything.” Bradford held Ian’s gaze, until Ian looked away. “It’s your turn to talk now.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Ian said, keeping his eyes on the floor.

“I don’t want you to say anything in particular, I get paid no matter what you decide to talk about.” Bradford shrugged.

“I’m not leaving,” Ian said, after a short silence.

“Okay.”

“So if I’m not leaving, I don’t want to keep feeling this way. I don’t want to have another fucking panic attack. What do I do about it?”

“Lean into it. Look at how you’re trying to maintain control of things that you either can’t or shouldn’t control, and change your approach.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Ian snapped. “I thought you were supposed to be helpful.”

“Still getting paid the same, Edgerton. If you want to waste time that’s fine with me.” 

“I’m not trying to waste time,” Ian said with a huff. “I don’t actually understand what you’re talking about.”

“Okay, I’ll give you an example. I think you’re trying to maintain control of your relationship with Charlie.”

Ian sighed. “And how’s that?”

“The person with the least invested in a relationship always has the most control,” Bradford said. He glanced at his watch. “Time’s up.” Seeing the glare he was getting from Ian, he rolled his eyes. “Think about it, Edgerton. That’s your homework. Am I going to see you again before your leave is up?”

“Not sure,” Ian shrugged. “I’ll let you know.” He got up to leave, but a grunt from Bradford made him pause at the door. Ian turned back, raising an eyebrow.

“That baby. She cute?”

Ian nodded.

“You got any photos?”


	15. Chapter 15

Don was a natural, David thought as he watched his boss lean back in the chair next to Robin’s bed, with little Leah nestled on his chest. He’d thought it would be strange to see Don with a kid, but it wasn’t – and that shouldn’t have been a surprise. Don had always had a good rapport whenever they’d had to work with kids involved with cases. It was fitting now for Don to have one of his own.

The whole team had been by to visit and deliver a surprising number of baby gifts. Nikki had brought in a tiny pair of sparkly blue sneakers, which were still too big for Leah. But Nikki had only shrugged, saying that Leah would grow into them and a girl needed a good pair of shoes. Liz had brought in the softest blanket ever, so soft that no one could stop touching it. It was a light yellow color, and David almost wished they made them in queen size so that he could have one on his bed. 

Colby had surprised everyone by bringing a box of newborn-size diapers and a package of onesies in various colors – eminently practical gifts. He’d talked to his sister back in Idaho about what she would recommend, but didn’t think the hospital would look too kindly on him bringing in the case of beer that was the third part of his sister’s suggestion. That would have to come later.

David had a gift bag that contained a few board books with minimal words and bright, colorful illustrations that Leah would no doubt drool over in appreciation when she was old enough to get her hands on them. He set it on the floor with the rest of the gifts, and hung back after the rest of the team had filed out of the room.

“So, Maslow has basically confessed,” David said quietly, not wanting to wake either Leah or Robin, who was also sleeping. “When we got him into the interview room he told us about how Tanya had stopped by the house to talk to Evan, with the intent to let him know she was pregnant. University police pulled Evan out of class and talked to him. Kid’s got a clean record, he and Tanya had started dating a few months ago. We don’t think he knew about her death.”

Don nodded. “Why’d he do it?”

David snorted softly, shaking his head. “Went on this whole screed about how Tanya was trying to trap his boy with a kid, and then expounded on his opinion of women in general. His wife left for a damn good reason. Maslow dumped Tanya’s body in what he thought was the middle of nowhere – he had no idea anyone would be looking for bodies on Wilson’s property, and when he heard about it he couldn’t resist going back out there to see if she’d been found.”

The two agents sat in silence for a moment, contemplating the somewhat frightening concept of how much of a role both chance and coincidence played in their line of work.

“So,” Don started, then fell silent, moving his hand gently up and down Leah’s back when she stirred and issued a quiet whimper. David held his breath instinctively, not wanting to do anything that might wake the baby.

Baby settled, Don continued. “I’m on leave now, which means you’re in charge, David.”

“Of course, Don. Don’t worry about a thing, we’ve got it under control.”

“Yeah.” Don smiled faintly. “Yeah, I know you do. Which is why I wanted to tell you that I’m not coming back as the team lead in six weeks.”

“What?” David’s shocked exclamation unfortunately came out at a normal – okay, slightly louder than normal – volume, and the two men froze, waiting to see what would happen. The baby stayed quiet. Don held a finger up to his lips, then grinned.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while, now,” Don said, his voice soft. “And now that she’s here, it’s like… I mean when you have your own kid, you’ll know, but it’s like the biggest wake-up call you’ll ever get in your life. I want to take a step back from field work, which is why I’ve accepted a promotion to Special Agent In Charge. Merrick offered it to me, and I’ve been putting him off while trying to decide.”

“Wow, Don, that’s – that’s really great, man,” David said sincerely.

“And that means that team lead is yours if you want it.”

David’s mouth fell open. “I – I don’t know what to say…”

Don shrugged. “Say yes if you want it. David, you’ve been my relief supervisor for – what, four, five years now? You’re ready. You can do this, and you’ll do it well.”

“I – yes, I want it.” David reached out and squeezed Don’s shoulder. “Thanks, man, I won’t let you down.”

“Yeah, I know.”

01101110 01110101 01101101 01100010 01100101 01110010 01110011 0001010

Ian sighted the target through his scope, drew a breath and held it, then fired. He lined up another shot and did it again. And again. And again. And again.

Five targets to a sheet at eight hundred yards, five shots. He checked the accuracy through the scope, flicking the safety on. 

Not quite qualifying, definitely not up to his usual standard. But not out of the realm of possibility, either. It had only been…he thought back. It had been almost ten weeks since he’d been shot. This was the first time back at the range, there was still a lot of room left for improvement, still some healing to do.

But he felt a lot better about it.

His drive home from the outdoor range was mechanical, automatic – perfectly safe, but his mind was somewhere else, lost in thought. He went into the garage first, smiling as he punched the code into the keypad, then secured his rifle. The safe had been a good idea. Charlie had a lot of good ideas.

He found his professor in the dining room, his laptop on the table and several notebooks being held open with an empty cereal bowl, the salt shaker, and his new cell phone, respectively. Ian smiled to himself.

“Hey Charlie,” he said nonchalantly, sifting through the pile of mail on the round table in the entry way.

“Mm-hmm,” Charlie answered vaguely, not looking up from what he was doing.

“What’s thirteen hundred times twelve?”

“Fifteen thousand six hundred.”

“All right. And how about three hundred times twenty-five?” Ian asked, putting his hands flat on the table and leaning slightly over Charlie’s shoulder.

“Seven thousand five hundred.”

“So what’s fifteen thousand six hundred minus seven thousand five hundred?”

“Eight thousand one hundred.”

“Gotcha, thanks.” Ian smirked, waiting.

“No problem,” Charlie said, pushing his phone off of the notebook and rifling through its pages.

Ian waited some more. Okay, Charlie was clearly too occupied to pick up on subtlety. He sat down in the chair next to him. “You want to know what I just learned?”

“Hmm?”

“Charlie, look at me.” Ian reached out and plucked the notebook out of Charlie’s hands, drawing his gaze up.

“Sorry, what?”

“What I’ve just learned,” Ian said, scooting closer and wrapping an arm around Charlie’s waist, turning him so that they faced each other. “Is that by not living here I’ve been wasting a little over eight thousand dollars a year on an apartment I almost never use. What I’ve learned is that it’s actually cheaper for me to be in one of those extended stay hotels near Quantico than it is for me to pretend that I actually live there.”

Charlie’s eyes widened, suddenly very focused on Ian’s face. “I – what? Ian, we don’t have to change anything, we can keep going as we have been –“

“What if I want to change, Professor?” Ian asked softly. “I mean it.”

“You’d want to live here?” Charlie asked, unable to hide the hope in his eyes.

“I think it makes sense for me to live at home, Charlie, and home is where _you_ are. It has been for a while.”

Charlie suddenly surged forward, crossing his wrists behind Ian’s neck and taking his lips in a heated kiss. “You’re welcome to – you’ve always been welcome here.”

Ian hummed thoughtfully, returning the kiss. “Always, huh?”

“Yes,” Charlie breathed, shifting so close that he was practically in Ian’s lap.

“What about upstairs, am I welcome upstairs?”

Charlie smiled, settling one of his hands at Ian’s waist and letting it slide up his shirt. “Yes.”

Ian grinned, his dark eyes glinting mischievously. “Show me.”


End file.
